


The Alliance

by Karios



Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel), The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Aspen Leger/Lucy, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Character List Inside, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, Hana and Elise are in a Platonic Soulmateship, Happy Ending, Implied Bastien/Bianca Walker, Minor Maxwell Beaumont/Original Character, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-22 22:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: Cordonian royalty attend Prince Maxon of Illéa's end of The Selection announcement.When these two kingdoms collide, there's a little bit of politics, some healing of old wounds, and a lot of romance.Because it's not really a love story until everyone has a happily ever after.





	1. Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a canon primer and character list in chapter nine, in case you need more info about either canon.
> 
> Content warnings are in the end notes of chapters one, two, six, and seven, though nothing in this fic is any darker than either source canon.

King Liam of Cordonia had staged an informal meeting of most of the Royal Council. His dearest friends had become his most trusted advisors over the course of the last year and he needed their input tonight. “Thank you all for coming. I trust everyone's having good end-of-year celebrations?”

Olivia spoke first, “I know I am. This is the only time of year the public appreciates the magic of my beautiful duchy.”

Drake laughed. “Imagine that. People aren’t happy to flock to ski hills of Lythikos in July.”

She flicked her napkin at him.

Maxwell added, “I’ll be better once we do presents. Royal gifts are the best gifts, am I right?”

Wendy grinned. “No arguments here, but I have everything I could ever want.” She underscored her point by intertwining her fingers with Drake’s.

Olivia made a gagging noise. “Can we please get on with it before she launches into song and attracts a flock of cheerful birds?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “You are all getting a gift, but first I have a point of business. As some of you may know, Prince Maxon of Illéa has announced he has chosen a fiancée and put an end to his social season, known in Illéa as The Selection.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Hana asked.

“It had been my father's intention to travel there to congratulate the new bride and pledge Cordonia’s support to Illéa as they deal with their rebel problem. I'm keeping the engagement and you're all welcome to join me.”

Drake chimed in first. “I’ll pass. Being shot by local terrorists is one thing. I'm not up for the international version.”

Maxwell quickly disagreed. “A chance to meet other hot Illéan girls who haven't seen my moves, I'm in!”

Hana rose her hand. “I’d like to go.”

Olivia frowned. “Leave Lythikos in the busy season? Not a chance. Sorry Liam.”

Wendy glanced at Drake. “I'd really like to go. See the palace. Watch the announcement. Could be very romantic.”

Liam cleared his throat. “I wasn't planning to leave that soon. I was planning to stop by after the announcement, avoid the fanfare.”

“You can't! We can't. The announcement is the best part.” Turning to Maxwell, Wendy decided to get him on her side. “There will be a party. And dejected girls looking for entertainment.”

“I'm sold,” he said.

“It does sound fun,” Hana agreed.

Drake ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll go if Reismyth's going. The things I do for love.”

Liam said, “If everyone is in agreement, I suppose we could leave immediately. Olivia, if it helps, we'll be back in Cordonia in time to ring in the new year.”

“Lythikos can survive without me for that long, I guess,” Olivia replied.

“Woohoo, group party abroad!” Maxwell cheered, fistpumping the air.

* * *

As the Cordonians’ flight landed in the Illéan capital city of Angeles, Prince Maxon slipped quietly out of America's room. Being with the woman he loved, the woman who would soon become his wife, made everything seem possible. 

For now though, he had other matters to attend to, beginning with an overdue thanks for the guard posted outside.

Maxon stepped close to Aspen, “The lady would appreciate your discretion, Officer Leger.”

Aspen smiled. “She’s always had it.”

Maxon blinked twice. “It really was you.”

“You must have suspected something.”

Maxon stepped closer, lowering his voice to the barest of whispers. “Who better to guard the woman I love than the man who loved her?”

Aspen let the smile fade. “No one, Your Majesty.”

“Precisely.” Maxon spun on one heel and took off down the hall.

A minute later America burst out of the room, guilt and panic warring in her eyes. Aspen held up a hand to stop whatever she was going to say. “I only have a few minutes before Maxon whisks you off to become future Queen of Illéa. You’re going to listen. I know what you’re thinking, but there’s been no ‘us’ for Maxon to find out for a while. Has there?”

America shook her head.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that I...”

America tried to break in. “Aspen.”

“I met someone, Mer,” he said, before she could stop him again.

“Who? What’s she like?”

“You know her already. I’ll explain later when we have more than a moment alone.”

America nodded, stowing her curiosity for the moment. “So you’re happy then?”

“Ridiculously.” Aspen looked her over. “You?”

“Me too,” America said, her voice tender. “More than I thought I could be.”

“You should be, sleeping with him.” His tone is part teasing, part judging.

America’s mouth dropped open, just as Maxon rounded the corner, holding Kriss’s hand.

Maxon scrubbed his free hand down his face. “You are the picture of discretion, Officer Ledger.”

“I did not sleep with anyone,” America finally managed.

“My apologies, Ladies, Your Majesty. I think I'd best make myself scarce,” Aspen said, hastily bowing to everyone as he backed down the hall.

Kriss still looked scandalized, and her grip on Maxon tightened, as she looked to him for an explanation.

“Lady America, let us take this conversation to the privacy of your room, _please_.”

America nodded, pulling open the door and Maxon held it as both women entered. America took a seat at the foot of her bed, and Kriss followed suit.

“I wanted to have a chance to dismiss the last one of you privately, as I have with the others. You’ll still be required to feign for the camera as though you don’t know my final decision, and if you don’t think you can do that, then you’re welcome to find out with the rest of Illéa tonight instead.”

Kriss spoke up first. “Concealing one’s true emotions, positive...or negative, is the kind of poise required in a future monarch. I can handle it.”

America nodded. “Go ahead, Maxon.”

Maxon folded his hands behind him. “Very well then.” He paced the as though the motion might dispel his nerves. “Kriss, first you should know the officer spoke out of turn.”

“I should say so,” Kriss muttered quietly.

“Lady America was telling the truth; she and I have not done anything of the sort. Even if we had, that would be no basis for the single most important decision of my life."

“I deeply care about both of you and happen to feel either of you possess the qualities to be a fine queen for Illéa. You’re smart, brave, compassionate women, who have proved you not only care for me, but the country we call home. Nothing about coming to this decision was easy, and I know both of you can appreciate that.”

His gaze flitted between Kriss and America. Both women nodded vigorously.

“I hope the woman I haven't chosen knows I hold her in nothing but the highest regard and that I respect and admire her totally. I know that the woman I haven't chosen will be destined for an incredible life. Not only continuing to serve Illéa, but if I may be so bold as to say, with a man who will love and cherish her even more than I would have. In the end it came down to where my heart lies.” Maxon let out a breath as his eyes fell on America again. “I choose Lady America.”

America and Kriss exhaled at the same time. Kriss’s eyes welled, but she blinked away the tears rapidly.

“Kriss, my dear, I'm sorry,” Maxon was saying but Kriss was already on her feet, giving him a half-hearted curtsy.

“I need some time to, uh, process this,” she said before letting herself out. Maxon stared at the door in her wake.

“Go,” America said, snapping him out of it.

“She seemed to want to be alone,” he said, with a confused glance in America's direction.

“If you'd picked Kriss a moment ago, I'd want you to follow me.” She steered him toward the door. “Go. Talk to her.”

However, when Maxon opened the door, a member of the Guard was waiting in the hall for Maxon.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” the guard said as he bowed. “I have pressing and unfortunate news.”

“Forgiven,” Maxon said brusquely, waving the man on.

“The delegation from Cordonia has arrived early. King Liam and the others await you in the dining room.”

Maxon inhaled sharply. “Early? They can't be!” When he turned back to America, he looked shaken. “I must go attend to our guests immediately.”

America nodded.

“You and Kriss are welcome to come meet the Cordonians at lunch. Can you tell her that for me?”

Agitation rolled off Maxon in waves. America nodded again. “Yes. Of course.”

Maxon nodded to the guard and then headed back to his room to change into something unrumpled and splash cold water on his face. He couldn't meet a fellow royal looking like he'd seen a ghost. The question remained: how could he get them to go back home without telling the truth, nor risking alienating a strong ally in Cordinia?

He had no good ideas by the time he reached his guests. However, thanks to his father, and there was a thought he didn't want to examine too closely, he was the picture of poise.

“Welcome to Illéa, people of Cordonia. It is an honor to have you here, Your Majesty.” Maxon bowed, surveying the seven Cordonians, three women and four men, including the King.

King Liam of Cordonia returned Maxon's bow and the others followed suit. “It is an honor to meet Your Highness, especially on such a pivotal day for Illéa. I hope you'll forgive my eagerness in calling this meeting.”

Maxon chuckled. “Very eager indeed. You've arrived a full day early.”

“I'm afraid that's my fault.” A red-haired woman only slightly older than Maxon stepped forward.

Liam bit back laughter as he said, “May I present Duchess Wendy Reismyth of Valtoria? She's fond of speaking out of turn.” From the look Liam shot her, Maxon could see there was fondness there as well.

“I was born a Six, from Waverly. While Cordonia is my home now, I wanted to be here for the engagement announcement,” Wendy said.

“It is a pleasure and a privilege to host a daughter of Illéa returned home at any time,” Maxon replied diplomatically. “It is only with all of the Selected ladies here for the announcement as well, the palace is bound to seem crowded.”

The Cordonians conferred silently for a moment, exchanging looks. King Liam said, “Lady Hana Lee of New Asia would like to address that.”

The young dark-haired woman looked relieved to be recognized. “It is no trouble. Having been through Cordonia's version of the Selection ourselves, it would please us to meet your ladies.”

Duchesses Wendy and Olivia murmured in agreement.

“If you can spare two rooms, Duke Drake, Lord Maxwell, and I can room together while the ladies take the other. It is no trouble, really,” insisted Liam.

“On the contrary, Your Highness, it shall make it easier to watch over my charges,” said Bastien.

Liam added, “I hope you won't take offense, but given the recent trouble in Illéa, I thought it prudent to bring my most trusted man, Bastien.”

“A wise decision indeed, King Liam,” agreed King Clarkson sweeping into the room with his wife Queen Amberly in tow. “We will put your man in touch with members of our own Royal Guard to coordinate at once. I trust Maxon hasn't given you too disfavorable an opinion of Illéa. You weren't trying to dissuade our guests, were you?”

“Of course not, Father,” Maxon replied, tense.

Liam’s lips pursed. “I found Prince Maxon’s company quite pleasant, in fact.”

Queen Amberly cut in. “We are all glad Cordonia could come in spite of troubling circumstances, and deeply sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have quite a crown to fill since the passing of my father. Thankfully, our rebel problem seems to have settled down, as I soon hope to be true for Illéa.”

“Thank you. Clarkson and I were very fond of Constantine, but let me say that Cordonia looks to be in very capable hands.”

“You flatter me, ma'am.” Liam gave Amberly a dazzling smile.

“And which of these lovely young ladies is your bride?”

“Ah, not a one, unfortunately.” Liam's eyes dart briefly to the Illéa-born Duchess Wendy. “My search for a queen shall continue.”

Maxon stared at him in a mixture of shock and sympathy.

“Maxon,” Clarkson barked. “Stop gaping. You must have much to do before this evening's Report.”

“Yes. Of course, Father.” Maxon headed out.

His commitment to the events set in motion tonight renewed, Maxon rushed to meet with August in one of the library nooks.

The Northern rebel leader was perturbed. “You’re late. Do you know how nervous I was standing around here?”

Maxon held up a hand. “I know. I’m sorry. The Cordonians arrived. Is everything in place for tonight?”

“Yes. But I still think this plan is terrible. Especially now. What if the foreign king gets caught in the crossfire?” August asked, staring Maxon down.

“He won’t,” Maxon said with a confidence he didn't feel. “Look, the Southern forces were coming one way or another. Making this deal allowed me to know when they were coming and prepare. They insist on bloodshed, the best we can do is use it to our advantage.”

August hummed in uneasy agreement. “Just stay alive. Make sure these sacrifices are not in vain.”

“I will.” They shook hands. 

Maxon exited the way he came, leaving August to scurry off. 

One last night of violence was all that separated Maxon from a life with his fiancée in peace.

Everything would be better once his father was dead. Maxon was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Discussion of patricide.


	2. Hurt Somebody

Drake hung his clean shirt for the following day in the wardrobe and shucked his gray suit jacket, draping it over a chair, before flopping onto the bed. “Remind me the next time I complain about Cordonian nobles that we could have been stuck with _that_ for a king. Clarkson combines all the stuffiness of Bertrand with all the assholishness of Rashad.”  
  
Maxwell shot Drake a glare.  
  
“What? Your brother is stuffy and I can say that because we're family now.”  
  
“Don't you start. I already have a headache,” Liam said, digging his fingers into his temples. “You can rejoice in the fact you'll only have to meet King Clarkson the once, and you didn't spend an hour listening to him belittle us all.”  
  
“About what?” Maxwell asked.  
  
“Not important,” Liam waved off the concern. An angry Drake or distracted Maxwell would do no one any good. “Both of you should rest up while we can. And Drake, please try not to look too bored once we're in front of the cameras.”  
  
“I've got your back, man,” Drake said.

* * *

It seemed like only minutes before Bastien and another guard arrived to escort them to their places for the Report, a televised event where Prince Maxon would announce his bride-to-be. 

Seating had been hastily rearranged to make room for the Cordonians next to the eliminated members of the Selected. Hana was deep in conversation with another girl from New Asia named Elise. Maxwell was attempting to make a couple of the other girls laugh. Wendy and Drake conversed quietly to themselves and Liam watched Maxon wondering how he was doing. Liam felt for the young man. His own social season had been stressful enough, and he'd had a great deal more freedom in it than the process here seemed to allow.  
  
Suddenly Bastien appeared in their midst. “I have a sinking suspicion about some of the guards here tonight,” he murmured.  
  
“What kind?”  
  
“I don't think all of these guards belong to the palace,” Bastien said evenly.  
  
Liam had been about to reply when around the perimeter room, guards began producing red scraps of cloth from their pockets and tying them to their foreheads. No one seemed to notice the odd behavior, and he'd thought perhaps it was simply a part of the ceremony, except that one of these red-marked “guards” stalked toward him and the other guests of honor. Bastien fired, taking the man out. As the fake guard hit the floor, guns were drawn everywhere. Maxwell jumped to shield the women nearest him as the next shot was fired.  
  
Chaos erupted from there. More gunshots came from every direction and screaming filled the room. Furniture was knocked over as some fled the room and others fell to the ground. The women were ushered out past Liam, who crouched down in time to miss a bullet and see the Prince of Illéa get shot. Scrambling forward as quickly as he dared, Liam collected one of the possible future queens out from under a table, hoisting her up into his arms.  
  
She started to scream. Liam pressed her face against his great coat to muffle the sound, then met back up with Bastien. “Which way to a safe room?”  
  
Bastien led the way down the hall, found the key he’d been given, and ushered them inside.  
  
“I'm going, sir,” was all Bastien said before the door slammed shut.  
  
Liam lowered the young woman to the floor gently, then offered her a handkerchief for her tears. “Please don’t scream. I’m sorry to have frightened you, but I wanted to get you to safety, and there wasn't a lot of time for explanations.”  
  
“I understand that now.” A last few silent sobs shook her frame. “I hope you weren't aiming for glory in rescuing the future queen of Illéa. You missed.”  
  
Liam frowned in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
She rolled over and using a shelf managed to get to her feet. “I'm Kriss Ambers, the runner up.”  
  
“King Liam of Cordonia. I think I'm well-settled in the glory department, but I'm grateful for your concern.” His tone was tinged with amusement.  
  
“Oh. Oh no. Your Majesty, forgive me.” Kriss curtsied despite the difficulty of movement in the small space.  
  
“Relax, milady. We're huddled in a glorified broom closet, it's hardly the time for formalities,” Liam said, as he felt his way toward the bench, and examined the rest of the room in the dim light. “There’s room for both of us to sit.” Liam patted the space next to him.  
  
Kriss sat down.  
  
Liam fidgeted now that there was nothing to do. The taps weren't rhythmic, just displaced nervous energy. Kriss caught his fingers, and glanced at him apologetically. “I'm sorry but you're no Five and noise could easily get us killed.”  
  
“Five?”  
  
“The caste of professional musicians.”  
  
“Right. I'm sorry. I confess the one thing being a monarch doesn't prepare you well for is sitting and waiting while those you love are in danger.”  
  
“It doesn't,” Kriss agreed. “I'm terrified for Maxon. For everyone, but...”  
  
“You love him,” Liam finished for her. “The others you care for, but he was nearly yours.”  
  
“That's ridiculous, right?” she asked. “He picked America. He's going to marry America.”  
  
“Love doesn't begin or end just because someone gets married.” His tone was gentle.  
  
“That sounds like personal wisdom.”  
  
“It is. The woman I picked for my Selection, she married my best friend.”  
  
Kriss gasped. “Did you punish them?”  
  
“No. They're two of the people I love most in the world. How could I deny them any happiness even at the expense of my own?”  
  
“In Illéa, those taking part in Selection are not allowed to consider anyone except the Prince. Violators are lashed or executed.”  
  
Liam gritted his teeth together. “I hope you can forgive my saying so, but the more I discover about Illéa, the more I find it barbaric.”  
  
She squeezed his fingers in sympathy. “Some of us are working to change it.”  
  
He looked down at the hand Kriss was still holding, and she let go.  
  
“I'm sorry, I...” she trailed off.  
  
“It wasn’t unwelcome. You needn't be sorry, that is.”  
  
Silence stretched between them for long enough that Liam felt the urge to fidget again.  
  
“Lady Kriss?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“I know this is not precisely the appropriate time or place, but as long as we're stuck here, would you care to dance?”  
  
“Dance?”  
  
“I promise I waltz far better than I drum.” He slid off the cot and offered her his hand. “What do you say?”  
  
“Invitation accepted, Your Majesty.” Kriss slid her hand into his.  
  
“Liam,” he corrected, leading her through the first steps.  
  
“Are all Cordonians this informal, Liam?”  
  
“God, no,” he smiled, thinking of a few examples of precisely the opposite. “But recently I've learned the value of informality.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Formality would have dictated I marry a woman solely suited to being Queen with no regard for how she suited me. I would have missed out on love and a great deal of fun in my Selection.”  
  
“Fun isn't the word I would have used for the Selection. It wasn't all bad,” she corrected quickly at the somewhat pinched look on Liam's face. “Just the competition got to a lot of us. And these attacks made it seem, I don't know.”  
  
“Frivolous?” suggested Liam, his expression thoughtful. “I know it must seem that way, but whenever Prince Maxon does ascend to the throne, he'll be lucky to have someone at his side. Deciding the fate of a nation alone is, well, lonely.”  
  
“I think it would be. You must have quite the best friend,” Kriss added after a moment.  
  
“Drake is the best man I've ever known, why?” asked a puzzled Liam.  
  
“He'd have to be or there's something very unintelligent about the woman who turned you down.”  
  
Liam stifled a laugh against Kriss's shoulder, losing his step. “I thought you weren't allowed to be flirting with any other men.”  
  
“I'm not, I wasn't.” Kriss stammered. “Not that I wouldn't, I mean, possibly in other circumstances. Help?”  
  
“Merely a joke, Lady Kriss. Both the King and Crown Prince will receive glowing reports of your conduct should you need them. Though between you and me, I rather hope you don't.”  
  
Kriss stepped back out of his arms, peering at him curiously for a moment. “I think I need to lie down. Do you mind?”  
  
“Not at all.” He shifted out of the way and once she settled on the bench, Liam folded his coat inside out to pillow her head and drew a blanket over her. She smiled up at him.

“Sleep well, Lady Kriss.”

* * *

In the main safe room, Wendy, Drake, Olivia and many of the Selected girls waited. Drake felt irritable and impatient, one hand resting on a fallen guard’s borrowed gun stashed in his hip pocket. He didn't know whether the weapon had belonged to friend or foe, just that it still contained bullets that he could, would, use to defend the rest of them if he had to.  
  
He hated that it felt like a possibility.  
  
“You're not going to use that, are you?” Wendy asked as though reading his mind.  
  
He cycled through a half dozen answers before settling on, “Haven't you figured out by now that there isn't anything I wouldn't do to protect you?” His eyes shifted from the door to bore into hers for a few seconds, then back to the door.  
  
“I feel like we should be out there,” she said instead of answering him.  
  
“I know. I feel the same way. But they'd be too interested in protecting us to be of any use to the men whose job this is.” He pointedly didn't think about who those men are: sons, husbands, fathers, just like his own, never to come home again while he hid in a corner.  
  
“You two are officially insane,” a teenager muttered at them. From her lavish dress and overdone updo, it was clear she was a contestant before she even opened her mouth to introduce herself. “Celeste Newsome, a Two, and a member of the Elite, and you are?”  
  
“The Duke and Duchess of Valtoria,” Wendy replied which earned her a glare from her husband.  
  
“I would have went with: ‘I'm someone who thinks your little numbering system is dumb’.” Drake moved to lean against the opposite wall and found himself next to Olivia.  
  
Olivia looked Celeste over. “I like her.”  
  
Drake laughed quietly, drawing stares. “You would. Half woman, half serpent. Very familiar.”  
  
Olivia shoved him. “I thought we’re friends now.”  
  
“You're Reismyth's friend, and Liam's friend. I am willing to tolerate you for their sakes.”  
  
“How generous of you, Duke.” Olivia shot him a cheshire grin.  
  
“Seriously Olivia, stop antagonizing the guy with the gun.”  
  
“No. I won't have you beating yourself up that you're not out there, getting yourself killed. You have people who need you here.”  
  
She didn't mean in this room, at least not entirely. His sister, his nephew, his friends. He had ties now. He gave her a stiff nod in acknowledgement, and satisfied she made her way over to Celeste, who was still responding to fear by being a general bitch.

Olivia could respect that, to a point. “You know Drake's father was a guard. Had he been born in Illéa, he would have been a Two and protecting us here tonight, so back off, harpy.”  
  
“Harpy?” Celeste shrieked and lunged toward Olivia, who caught the other woman by both wrists.  
  
“Nice nails. Though if you’re going to use them as weapons I recommend filing them to a point.” Olivia ran her own nails lightly over Celeste's wrists and Celeste shivered.

“Seriously?” Drake whispered. “Flirt later, we’re cowering for our lives right now.”

“We weren't flirting,” insisted both women nearly at once.

“Right. And I hated that waitress following us on Liam's bachelor party right up until I married her.”

* * *

“Liam, does it ever get easier?” Kriss asked quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“Does what ever get easier?”

“Heartbreak. Being passed over for your best friend.”

Liam shot her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “When I find out, I'll let you know.”

“It was almost me.” A strangled sob escaped her throat. “I loved him. I let him kiss me.”

“I was in their wedding. I stood there and smiled, wished them well as she became his forever,” he commiserated.

“I'll have to attend the wedding,” she said as though the realization had only now struck her. Tears poured down her face in earnest now.

Liam stepped toward her makeshift bedside. “Could I hold you?”

Kriss looked momentarily startled, but she nodded quickly. He scrambled up next to her and she sank into his arms. She continued to sob, her tears soaking the front of his shirt while he carded his fingers through her hair.

“I've made a fool of myself and probably ruined your shirt. I'm sorry,” she said once she'd cried herself out of tears.

“Don't worry about it,” he said, running a thumb along her cheeks to erase the tear tracks. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A lot, actually.”

“That's what matters. Change of subject: are you looking forward to anything once you get back home?”

“Work mainly. I am a Three so that means I have a choice of a number of professions: medicine, office work, teaching.” Her enthusiasm for the latter was clear in her voice even at a whisper. “My parents are both professors so I'm not so secretly hoping I end up in education too.”

“Passionate teachers are invaluable,” Liam agreed. “The greatest force of change in a nation.”

“I think the monarchy gets that honor. After all, you make our laws.”

“We do, yes, but a law is only as well crafted as the minds that conceive it and the advice that brought it to the Kings’ or Queens’ attention. Teachers ensure we can weigh the facts, assess the outcomes, and calculate the costs of any decision we make.”

“That may all be true, but I suspect you're just being an unrepentant flatterer.”

“No. Unrepentant flattery would've been to tell you that I suspect a great many of your future pupils will be glad you lost, just for the privilege of having you for a teacher.”

She was glad he couldn't possibly see her blushing in the dim light of the safe room, and sought to quickly change the subject. “What comes next for you as King of Cordonia?”

“I'm currently focused on prosperity projects and international outreach, though I doubt there'll be much enthusiasm for the latter given what sort of press this trip is probably getting.”

“But this wasn't your fault,” she said.

“No, but they can choose to criticize me for visiting a country in such turbulent times, or for arriving during a high profile event that was likely to be targeted, or any other of a dozen ways that give me a share of the blame.”

“Basically wield enough power and anything can be your fault?”

“Exactly. And yet, this is the lot I chose for myself.”

“Chose?” she asked. “Aren't princes born to it?”

“We are. But I'm a second son. The birthright belonged to my older brother. I agreed to take over when he abdicated.”

“What made him quit?”

“A number of things I suspect. Leo needed adventure like air. Wanted to blaze a trail, literally, and not with carefully coordinated security detail. Our main bodyguard once had to retrieve him from inside a volcano. The responsibility choked him; diplomacy bore him. He could tell he wasn't cut out for any of it.”

“And you are?”

“I intend to try. I want better for Cordonia. For the world as a whole, if that's not too ambitious. If there's something I can do to keep more people safe and happy, the rest is worth it.”

Kriss knew that kind of longing to do your job and do it well. She wouldn't have thought it applied to royals. She wanted to say something about how she could see him changing the world someday, but instead what came out of her mouth was, “Aren't you ever angry?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Your friends run off together and you forgive them. Your brother pawns an entire country off on you and you let him.”

“I reserve my anger for cruelty and injustice. The men responsible for shooting at us during the announcement should consider themselves lucky I was more concerned with getting you to safety. Anger is like a sword, employed to protect those you love and the innocent, and should be directed only at those who seek to do them harm.”

Kriss's first thought was that Liam was a very different sort of man than Maxon, who was quick to temper and frustration. Her second thought was that she'd never been safer. One Liam was worth a palace full of guards.

They traded stories throughout the night, only pausing when noise reached the hallway nearest them. Liam’s hold tightened on her. “You're safe. The only way they will get to you is through me, and I don't intend to die this evening.”

She believed him enough that she must have been asleep when they opened the safe room, as she returned to consciousness halfway through an ascent of the main staircase.

“Where are we going?” she drawled sleepily.

“I was planning on carrying you back to your room,” Liam answered. “Unless there's somewhere else you'd rather be.”

“My room is fine. And I could walk.”

“I don't mind carrying you.”

She blushed. “You're making quite a habit of it.”

“Shhh.” He winked at her. “Don't tell the Prince.”

“I won't.”

She directed Liam to her room where he set Kriss down on her bed, and paused briefly at her doorway. “For what it's worth, I think Maxon chose wrong, too.”

He left without giving her the chance to respond, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

When the doors to the main safe room opened, Drake brought the gun up in a fluid arc, aimed steadily at the man who set foot inside.  
  
“Please don't shoot, Your Grace. I'm part of His Majesty's guard,” Avery said.  
  
“Forgive me if I feel a bit less than sure. Prove it.”  
  
“The ladies should know me,” he said hopefully and several of the Selected women nodded.  
  
“You can't be too careful,” Drake said, pocketing the gun once more.  
  
“I understand. Believe me.” For a moment the true weight of the day’s events showed in the guard's features, then his face smoothed and he returned to business. “The threat has been neutralized, but the palace is still in disrepair. Will anyone be needing an escort, otherwise I'll return to opening safe rooms?”  
  
“We’ll manage,” Drake said, and murmurs of assent followed throughout the room.  
  
“Very well then.” Avery backed out with a bow and left.  
  
Drake and Wendy headed quickly up the two flights of stairs back to their rooms. “No one's here,” Drake concluded with a look around the room.  
  
“Same,” Wendy answered from the next room, her face falling. “You don't think?”  
  
“They're fine,” Drake said emphatically.  
  
“I'll feel better once we’ve seen them.”  
  
“We’ll check the infirmary, then, and prove it to you when we don't find them there.”  
  
Minutes later, Drake was the one proved wrong when they found all of their friends huddled around a bed.  
  
Wendy launched into hugging Hana and Maxwell gathered up Drake before he could even register the cast on the younger man's arm.  
  
Maxwell explained, “I went back upstairs to get my phone. I wanted to text Bertrand and Savannah. Didn't want them to worry. Ran into trouble, but I'm fine, really. Not like...”  
  
Drake’s gaze dropped to the bed where Bastien lie sprawled, hooked up to tubes and wires. He was smaller, and paler, and utterly still. Drake's eyes burned with the first tears he had felt in decades. He blinked rapidly to clear them.  
  
The room shrunk around him, and Drake could tell Liam was saying something but it took several sentences for Drake's ears to tune into the sound. He caught, “...the best care money can buy,” before Liam crushed him into another hug. Drake didn't even protest as he wrapped his arms around his best friend, only letting go when someone cleared their throat.  
  
Dr. Ashlar frowned at the group of Cordonians. “I'm sorry but I am going to have to ask all but one of you to leave. This hospital wing is overcrowded as is without visitors.”  
  
Liam spoke for the group. “We understand.”  
  
Just as Drake declared, “And I'm staying,” in a tone that brokered no argument. The others filed out.

Liam immediately went in search of Maxon and knocked politely on the new king’s bedroom doorway, despite having been just announced by a guard.

“Come in,” Maxon called.  
  
Liam waited until he got even with the bed to say. “I hear both congratulations and condolences are in order.”  
  
“A position that you are familiar with yourself,” Maxon said wearily.  
  
“Indeed. You have my deepest sympathy, and my faith in Illéa’s new leadership both.”  
  
“Thank you,” Maxon said, setting aside the papers he’d been reading to run his good hand along his brow. “I’m told you’ll be staying?”  
  
Liam nodded. “As long as I can spare away from the throne, as Bastien can’t yet be moved in his condition.”

Fresh guilt spread across Maxon’s features. “I am so sorry.” He spared a quick glance around the crowded room. “I will find time to meet with you privately before you depart for Cordonia's shores.”  
  
Something in Liam’s expression hardened. “I’m glad to see you’re safe, Your Majesty.” Liam gave America a half-bow on his way past.

* * *

Olivia found Celeste pacing the Women's Room like a caged animal.  
  
“You didn't look half this spooked when you were hiding from gunmen,” she commented, nicking a bottle of nail polish off Celeste’s table, and shaking it.  
  
“Just a different kind of den of wolves,” murmured Celeste. “What's it to you anyway?”  
  
Olivia shrugged. “You're clearly the most attractive woman here and you caught my attention. Now that Liam's gone and found a new kicked puppy to chase, I'm free to admire.”  
  
“And you're admiring me.” Celeste brightened under the attention. She flicked her hair.  
  
“Don't insult me by pretending to be surprised.”  
  
“Wasn't planning on it.”  
  
“Good.” Olivia pulled up a chair at the table Celeste had claimed, various cosmetics spread out on the surface. “Can I borrow your file?”  
  
Celeste nodded. “Sure. If, I can ask you a personal question.”  
  
“You can. I may not answer it if it’s stupid.”  
  
“How did you deal with losing your Selection?” Celeste asked.  
  
Olivia laughed. “I got kidnapped by a man betrothed to me several years ago in a rebellious bid for the Crown, then got stabbed. It got me dinner with the King, but it's not a path I recommend.”  
  
Celeste dragged over another chair and sat across from Olivia. “What happened to your would-be husband?”  
  
Olivia bristled. “A dark hole and lengthy questioning. I voted for a good beheading, but Liam believes in mercy.” She said the word with disdain.  
  
“Sounds like weakness,” concurred Celeste. “How was dinner?”  
  
Olivia shrugged. “It closed a chapter for us both.”  
  
Olivia tugged over the bottle of remover, tapping it against Celeste's knuckles. She nodded, and Olivia set to work stripping the old polish and buffing each nail to a shine. Olivia shook the bottle of dark red polish, and unscrewed the lid before she asked, “Since we’re into personal questions, what's really got you so eager to stick around this shooting gallery that’s masquerading as a palace?”  
  
Celeste let out a dry laugh. “Oh just everyone I run into wondering why Maxon picked America. Every interview I do including a question about how I screwed up my shot. My parents won't let me hear the end of it, no matter what I do next. It's hard to look forward to going home to endless judgement and disappointment. You must know how it is.”  
  
“Can't say I do. My parents were assassinated when I was very young. I haven't had anyone to disappoint,” she replied, never looking up from the nail she's working on.  
  
“Shit. I'm sorry.”  
  
Olivia started on the next nail. “Right now, it sounds like I lucked out.” She sat back appraising the hand she had just finished. “You know, the chateau at my duchy has a lot of spare rooms. How do you feel about snow?”  
  
“I think I could learn to love it.”  
  
Olivia smiled, blowing along Celeste’s nails. “I look forward to teaching you how.”

* * *

Wendy called Bertrand, and ensured he’d been fully updated. The Duke of Ramsford’s business-first demeanor was exactly the sort of measured calm she needed. He took the news in stride, and helped her set up a statement with Madeleine. She was grateful to get a message out to the whole of the country, even if the Royal Press Secretary’s insistence that everyone who mattered to the Cordonian public was safe made Wendy want to throttle the woman all over again.   
  
Important calls complete, she sank back onto the bed and deeply regretted talking Drake out of leaving Valtoria at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: canon-typical violence


	3. About Us

By nightfall the news of Maxon and America's engagement had spread to everyone in the palace and it was abuzz with activity overnight.

As Maxon made his first decisions as monarch with advisors at his side, what remained of the serving staff worked to set the palace to rights, removing bodies and making repairs.

Down in the hospital wing, Dr. Ashlar and his staff continued to treat and discharge the wounded. Drake offered to help: “I'm here anyway; I'm strong and good with my hands, just show me what I can do.”

Dr. Ashlar mopped his forehead and regarded the eager young Duke. “Alright, scrub up and I'll find something for you to do.”

* * *

Meanwhile, upstairs in the guest suites, Olivia and Hana chatted in low tones.

“So this Illéan brat starts picking on Drake, like that isn't our job.”

“How dare she?” Hana said in mock offense.

“And then when I lowered myself to stick up for him, Drake accused me of flirting!”

“With him?”

“Ew, no. With Celeste.”

“You remembered her name,” Hana sing-songed. “She must be pretty.”

“Can't say I noticed.”

Hana held up her hands. “If you say so.”

“She's a commoner, Hana,” Olivia protested further.

“But Illéa doesn't have estates or duchies, surely anyone who made it the top half of the competition for Maxon's hand is on par with me or Kiara.”

“Celeste was one of the Elite...and she's a model.”

“I knew you were holding out on me.” Hana kicked her feet.

“What about you? Any love connections in your safe room?”

Hana blushed brightly. “I don't know about love, but I did make a connection with Elise.” Hana ducked her head. “She applied because of her parents too. They sound a lot like mine; trained her for this. It was nice to meet someone who understood the weight of expectations and everything.”

Olivia nodded, and managed a halfway charitable response.

Clearly, another life threatening experience had pulled them closer together. Wendy tried to follow their conversation from there, but her mind was too full for gossip about other women.

She padded next door and knocked, Liam let her in almost instantly.

“You can't sleep either?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I'm too worried.”

Wendy's eyes swept the room.

“If you're here for Drake, he's still down in the infirmary wing.” Liam's posture stiffened slightly.

“I came to check on you, actually...and Maxwell,” she added hastily because it sounded too loaded otherwise.

“He's fine, sound asleep.” A loud snore underscored Liam's words. “Painkillers put him right out. And his spirits are good. He asked if I thought he could use his cast to open champagne.”

They both chuckled to themselves at the mental image of that, but it faded quickly. “You conveniently skipped over telling me how you are.”

He sighed heavily. “I'm fine as ever. As I must be. Madeleine says I'm required back in Cordonia immediately.”

She shook her head again. “You're not leaving tonight. And you don't need to pretend everything is okay when we’re alone. I know Bastien is as important to you as he is to Drake, if not more.”

“Of course he is, he’s protected Leo and I our entire lives, enabling our every whim, and I repay him by nearly getting him killed on what was supposed to be a simple diplomatic jaunt. And people act as though I should be relieved, somehow.” He scoffed, shaking with the same anger he’d displayed when Cordonia was under attack.

“Of course you shouldn’t and this wasn't your fault.” She frowned. “If anything it was mine, if you’d come on schedule or alone...none of this would be happening.”

“We can't know that, please that wasn't what I meant to imply.”

She tugged him toward the oversized armchair in the corner. “You look exhausted. Let's sit.”

Curled up together, they lapse into silence only punctuated by Maxwell’s snores. Liam broke it with, “Can I ask you a difficult question?”

“Of course.”

“If Drake had fallen for someone else, would you have settled for me?”

“I would have married you easily, and it wouldn't have been settling.”

“Really? I wish I’d known that a few months ago.” His eyebrows waggled.

“You would've had to find a very special girl to appreciate Drake's charm the way I do,” she pointed out.

“I'll grant that one. Does your answer change if he were to leave you now?”

Wendy shifted positions, drawing in on herself, distressed at the very thought. It seemed important, though, so she tried to picture it. It didn't take much to imagine Drake's face so full of apology, telling her he just couldn't do this anymore.

“I worry about that,” she confessed quietly, staring out into the dark. “I’ve torn his whole life apart. He’s wearing suits and serving on councils, and I got between him and his best friend. So if you're asking how I’ll feel when he decides I'm not enough? Capable of ruling a small nation isn't my first thought.”  
  
“I have known Drake nearly all my life and I assure you, he has never been happier. Thought experiment aside, I promise I would never do anything that might jeopardize that.”  
  
There was still an undercurrent of pain in her tone as she replied, “Then why did you ask?”  
  
“I shared a safe room with one of the ladies passed over by Maxon. I wanted, well to be frank, I wanted your opinion on whether it would be cruel to invite her to consider coming to Cordonia so soon after her heartbreak.”  
  
“What’s she like?”  
  
Liam considered the question. “She's kind, curious, feisty. She seems aware of all the position entails.”  
  
“You’re smiling,” Wendy interrupted. “Must have been some first impression.”  
  
“It was. Much like another night not so long ago in Waverly, though a bit less scenic.”  
  
“But you're worried because she loves Maxon?”  
  
“Not exactly. Almost the opposite. I'm more worried that, given Illéa’s customs, she has an unfair gap in personal experience.”  
  
“Is personal experience polite royal code for you're nervous about being her first? Thinking ahead, aren't we?”  
  
He shifted his gaze across the room. “If I wanted someone to poke fun, I'd have this conversation with Drake.”  
  
“Okay, okay. Thought experiment: If I told you our time together had been mine, would you feel any differently about it?”  
  
“A little,” he admitted, turning to look at her again. “Being someone's only lover feels like a weighty responsibility.”  
  
“You're literally responsible for the welfare of an entire nation, and the most thoughtful man I know. Should things get that far, you can handle keeping her heart safe.”

“You really think so?”

“Liam, most of the Selected will be married before the next year is up. They attract dozens of offers just on the basis of being one of the ones who were chosen. You care about her as a person enough to consider that she's grieving.”

“I...thank you.”

She brushed a kiss to his cheek. “I think you should go for it. Asking her to visit isn't the same kind of pressure as asking her to participate in the social season or a Selection. You're getting to know each other, not committing to anything.”

“But,” he said, “I'll have to ask her parents too, who will assume that it is, in fact, a commitment to something even if not the crown itself. And I don't have an exhaustive supply of spare duchies to hand out in the event of failed engagements.”  
  
She laughed. He didn't.  
  
“You could have Maxwell formally invite her to Ramsford. House Beaumont has plenty of space, and Maxwell is a fairly decent host. Far less pressure.”  
  
“She'd probably marry him,” he muttered.  
  
“Only if he saves her life,” teased Wendy.  
  
“I may have already done that...wait is that why?”  
  
“No, not entirely, but it certainly didn't hurt.” She leaned over, tucking herself against his chest. “I liked encouraging you to have more fun and I never plan to stop. But you're tied to a family, a lineage, a whole country. I was alone. Drake was alone. Our ties are to you and each other. That was right for me. I've never kept a plant alive, how was I to run a country?”  
  
“If I recall correctly, I offered to abdicate.” His arms slid around her.  
  
“You did. But you're not Leo. You love Cordonia and your people; you deserve to lead them. They deserve you too, and someone who matches that enthusiasm. When we met you told me you couldn't follow your heart if love meant you chose the wrong queen. I held you to that.”  
  
Liam huffed and Wendy smiled, pressing a feather-light kiss to the hollow of his chest. “I thought you liked encouraging me to be reckless and put myself first,” he complained.  
  
“I do. Which is why I can't wait to meet the woman who's right for you _and_ the monarchy. Point her out to me over breakfast?”  
  
“I will. And Wendy?”

“Yeah?”

“There was one other concern on my mind. I know you said you'd had your reasons for waiting to tell me about you and Drake, but Kriss explained to me the consequences for violating the terms of the Selection here. Was that a factor in your decision?”

She froze in his arms, her gaze dropped to his lap.

“Did you really think I would let harm come to you or him, much less have you killed?” He shuddered in revulsion. 

“No,” she said slowly. “Ì know you wouldn't. But I also saw what happened after everyone thought I was having an affair with Tariq. I was forcibly escorted out of Cordonia based on a lie and a staged photo. I expected you to throw me out, and to order Drake away from me.”

Liam shook his head. “As though that would have worked, since when does Drake Walker follow orders?”

“What choice would he have? Why would he give up his best friend, his home, all the comforts of court to chase a waitress?”

“Now you sound like him. And I'll give you the same answer: he loves you.”

* * *

In contrast to the hope for the future blossoming upstairs, the atmosphere in the infirmary was gloomy.

Several times that night, a wave of bodies left the infirmary, some thankfully were discharged and sent elsewhere to recuperate while others succumbed to their injuries.

The work was a constant stream of activity to keep beds as clear as possible and tend to as many people as quickly as they could.

It was little wonder no one noticed the first signs of Bastien stirring, like the twitch of his fingers as he tried to force his hands to obey him, until he started choking on the ventilation tube in his throat.   
  
“Doctor!” Drake shouted rushing to Bastien's bedside. “Bastien, stop. You're going to tear out your IVs.”  
  
Dr. Ashlar arrived, injecting another dose of sedative into Bastien and then removed the intubation tubing.  
  
He turned to Drake. “I know given the excitement it must not feel like it right now, but that's actually a good sign.”  
  
Drake glanced down at the bed, even unconscious Bastien looked exhausted. Dr. Ashlar was resetting each of the machines, which were still beeping frantically. “You're right. It doesn't feel like it.”  
  
“He's breathing one his own, that's a major hurdle he just overcame.”  
  
Drake nodded and slumped back down into his chair.  
  
“And now I'm throwing you out,” Dr. Ashlar continued.  
  
“What?”  
  
Dr. Aslar gestured toward the bed. “He's going to be out for hours. You've been up and on full alert for too long. Go rest and eat before you end up in here next to him, Doctor's orders.”  
  
Drake nodded and reluctantly got to his feet.  
  
“If it helps,” said Aspen, the man in the bed across from Bastien's, “I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here when he wakes up.”  
  
Drake thanked him and then dragged himself to breakfast.

* * *

Wendy knew of Kriss, as she'd still paid some attention to the _Illéa Capitol Reports_, but it was different appraising someone as worthy of one of your best friends and his crown. She decided the woman, practically still a girl, was beautiful. Her wavy brown hair was woven carefully into submission and her smile sparkled. The twinge of jealousy worming its way through Wendy let her know she could see herself bowing to Queen Kriss sometime in the near future.  
  
When Drake arrived slotting in the seat next to hers, she could hardly contain her excitement.  
  
“You missed a lot,” she informed him at a whisper and slid her bowl of porridge toward him.  
  
“I did?”  
  
She nodded. “Liam's in love.”  
  
That got his attention. Drake's eyes opened wide. “He's what?” Simultaneously, Liam kicked her under the table.  
  
“Behave, _Your Grace_,” Liam commanded, though the crinkle to his eyes belied his amusement.  
  
Drake waited a few minutes before whispering, “which one?” and following his wife's gaze.  
  
“Her. Is she twelve?”  
  
“Try nineteen.”  
  
Drake couldn't manage anything more eloquent than “Huh.”

The rest of breakfast passed without any further fanfare, and Liam slipped away to catch up with Kriss just outside the dining room. “My lady, may I have a word?”  
  
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Kriss curtsied.  
  
“I wondered if you might perhaps like to visit Cordonia,” he stepped closer dropping his voice low so there could be no mistaking his meaning as he added, “as my guest.”  
  
Kriss startled. “I don't know. Perhaps some other time? I was very much looking forward to returning home.”  
  
“Oh. Oh, of course, yes. My mistake.” He shot her a practiced ‘royals know how to hide their feelings’ smile, one that had seen a lot of use lately. “In case I don't see you again before you leave, have a pleasant trip.”  
  
“Thank you,” she said, and with a perfunctory sweep of skirt left him standing there. He turned back the way he came. and nearly bowled down about half his Royal Council, waiting like nosy siblings.  
  
“How did it go?” Maxwell asked.  
  
Liam shot Wendy a glare as if to say, “you told him too?” before shaking his head. “It did not go at all.” He said addressing none of them in particular. “She wasn't interested.” Each word calm and slow, full of none of the anger or sadness they deserved. He continued past them.  
  
Perhaps it was a side effect of sleep deprivation but Drake couldn't let this stand. He jogged down the hall, and caught up with Kriss easily. “Lady Kriss, wait.”  
  
She stopped and turned. Drake bowed to her as he would have once to Penelope or Kiara, to convey a certain respect to the conversation.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Let me introduce myself. I'm Drake Walker, or as you may know me better, Liam's best friend.”  
  
“Oh, the jerk who stole the love of his life?”  
  
“Heh. The same.” Drake bit back a smile. He liked her already.  
  
Kriss's irritated expression conveyed the feeling wasn't mutual. “What exactly do you want?”  
  
“To get you to come to Cordonia.”

For a second, Kriss nearly panicked, worried that Liam's offers weren't to be refused, and that Drake was here to enforce the foreign king's will. 

Thankfully for her, Drake plowed right on. “Or at least understand why you won't. If you don't think you can hack it or you don't like Liam like he likes you, that's one thing, but if it's something else I will personally fix it.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Drake shrugged. “Loyalty to King and Country, because I owe him a thousand times over, because if being around you makes him even a tenth as happy as I am now, I want that for him, too. Take your pick.”  
  
“He's still in love with your wife,” she shot back like Drake wasn't painfully aware of this every second of every day and it took him a moment to realize she'd been answering his question.  
  
“That's your problem?” he clarified anyway.  
  
She nodded. “Mostly.”  
  
“So what? You're probably still carrying a bit of a torch for Prince Whoever-the-Hell.”  
  
“King Maxon,” she corrected, rolling her eyes. “What sort of a duke are you?”  
  
“The kind who got the position by hanging around the palace like a stray dog.”  
  
“Charming.”  
  
“I can be. But if you decide I'm not, as my Queen, you'd have the power to have me exiled or something.” Like many others, they were the sort of words he immediately regretted. Liam wouldn't stand for Drake being at odds with his wife, if he could then he would have married Olivia ages ago.  
  
However, they seemed to do the trick, as Kriss was smiling. “I do like him,” she confessed. “And I happen to think I'd make an excellent queen.”  
  
“No arguments here. So you'll consider his offer?”  
  
“You can tell him it is accepted,” she muttered, her eyes no longer meeting Drake's. “Now I really must go pack unless there was something else you wanted?”  
  
“Right. No, I won't take up any more of your time.” Drake bowed again, then headed up the stairs, let himself into their guest room, and sat next to Liam on his bed.  
  
“Did you bring whiskey?”  
  
Drake smiled. “I did you one better. I fixed it.”  
  
Liam looked at him as though Drake had just signed out to support Maxwell's underwater sandwich restaurant. “What did you say to her?”  
  
“Does it matter? She said yes.”  
  
“It very much matters.” Liam scrubbed a hand down his face.  
  
“Fine. I merely pointed out that if she still hated Reismyth and I by the time the two of you got married—”  
  
“Who said anything about getting married?” Liam interrupted.  
  
“—She'd have the power to exile us.”  
  
“That’s not the sort of promise you are entitled to make, Drake.”  
  
“Relax, Wendy won over me and both of the ice queens. We have nothing to worry about.”  
  
“I should hope you're right.” 

“Standard bet?” suggested Drake.

In spite of the absurdity of the wager, Liam smiled. “I hope you've been practicing your push-ups.”

“Always.” Drake sprawled on the bed and tugged a pillow over his face. “Now I'm under doctor's orders to nap. Wake me if I'm needed.”


	4. What Have We Become

As Maxon and America settled quietly in together, the rest of the palace was a flurry of activity as both the visiting Cordonian nobles and the Selected departed or made travel plans to return home.

The crowd in the infirmary had thinned considerably too, now down to cases in need of ongoing care. Most of the beds were still full, but for the first time since the attack things were relatively quiet.

Aspen's heightened senses told him that Bastien was stirring. He called out to the foreign guard. “You're safe now. You're in the Illéa Palace Hospital Wing.”

Bastien slowly blinked open his eyes and croaked something unintelligible in response.

“Lucy, can you get him some water?” Aspen asked.

A moment later, a young woman appeared at Bastien's bedside. “I'm going to sit your bed up, is that all right?”

Bastien nodded. The bed slowly tipped his upper body up until he was afforded a view of the room. Lucy held a glass for him, carefully positioning the straw between his lips.

Even a few easy sips made him sputter and cough. Machines beeped in response but Lucy paid them no heed. She dabbed the water away from Bastien's chin and shirtfront.

She took a half step back, waited a moment until the pain subsided, and then offered him the glass again. It went better the second time.

“Thank you,” he managed at a whisper.

“You're welcome.” Lucy smiled and moved back toward the other bed.

Aspen spoke up again. “Your charges are all safe.”

“Don't lie to him,” chastened Lucy. She turned to Bastien again, “That Maxwell boy had a broken arm.”

“That's been set and casted, and should heal completely in a couple of weeks. Therefore, he's safe,” Aspen countered.

“You've not been out that long. They'll probably unhook you from a lot of these machines today,” Lucy added, her voice bright.

“Any chance you could start now?”

Lucy bit her bottom lip. “Oh, I’m not a nurse.”

“Lucy's my fiancée,” Aspen corrected.

“My apologies, sir. I meant no disrespect,” Bastien said.

“None taken. What about you? Have a family of your own, or is it just the Duke?”

“Drake's not...I mean, he is the very reason I don't. His father was in my place, once. Better man than me. I couldn't do my job well, knowing I might leave a wife and child behind.”

“Your job shouldn't be an obstacle anymore.” Aspen pointed out.

Bastien glowered. “Things look that bad?”

“For you and me, both. I was a palace guard too. Shame, really. I was getting to like it.”

Bastien looked the younger man over. He couldn't have been at this job long. Not nearly long enough to build a life around it, and so he couldn't possibly fully understand. “I can't imagine being anything else.”

“Things have a way of turning out for the best," offered Aspen, taking his fiancee's hand. “Even when your future isn't what you'd always assumed."

"Perhaps," muttered Bastien, not wanting to crush a young man's enthusiasm.

* * *

He must have fallen back asleep shortly after that for the room was brighter and busier when he opened his eyes again. Liam awaited at the side of the bed.

“Hello Bastien. I was worried I might miss seeing you before I left," Liam said.

"Your holiday is over already? I’m sorry I missed it."

Liam nodded, looking guilty. “I really do hate to leave you.”

“Duty calls. I understand. Besides I won't heal any faster just because you wait around staring at me.”

Liam chuckled politely before slipping back into a frown.

“Stop that now, Liam. It's my job to worry about you. Not the other way around.”

Liam opened his mouth to speak.

“If you're about to say my only job is to heal, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

Liam laughed in earnest this time. “I wouldn't dare, Bas. I just wanted to let you know that Drake and Wendy are staying here until you're cleared to fly.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Bastien said, surprised to find he felt genuinely touched by the gesture. “But I'd feel better knowing they were back in Cordonia where my men can look after them.”

“I tried to tell Drake that and he said to remind you that he was shot on your watch, and that he's clearly proven he can guard Wendy personally.”

“I'm going to heal faster just so I can kick him for that insult.”

“I think that's the point.”

Kriss appeared in the doorway. Liam caught her eye and his face lit up.

“Go,” Bastien urged.

“But I...”

“Any girl who makes a boy that happy just by walking into a room shouldn't be kept waiting.”

Liam opened his mouth to protest further, but decided better of it and headed off.

Bastien smiled and let his eyes shut. Apparently, something good had come of this trip after all.

“My parents are here,” Kriss said, once Liam reached her.

“I didn't know I'd have the pleasure of meeting them.”

“If you still intend to drag me off to Europe, you should at least have to do the explaining.”

"I don't intend to drag you anywhere,” objected Liam, his face falling. “Can we sit?” he asked, indicating one of the benches along the wall with a sweep of an arm.

Kriss nodded and took a seat, fanning out her skirt. Liam joined her, taking care not to sit on it.

“You have reservations about accepting my invitation?”

“I doubt that matters to you very much.”

“I’m inclined to tell you that everything about you matters to me, but I'm uncertain you’d believe me. So instead, let me say that you can be honest with me.”

“With all due respect, my limited experience with royalty suggests I really shouldn't.”

“You have an awfully low opinion of royalty for someone who nearly became Queen,” Liam replied. “Whatever Maxon may have lied to you about, everything is not part of an agenda.”

“It wasn't anything I got from Maxon. You don't know him,” she said a protective note to her voice. “It was in our lessons. Monarchs don't get to act toward their own interests.”

“You think I'm interested in you on behalf of all of Cordonia? If I was in the habit of doing as duty instructs, I’d be married already.” Liam thought for a moment, then twisted off his signet ring. “Could you hold this for me?”

Kriss complied, looking at him askance.

“I, Liam of Cordonia, do hereby step down and forsake all rights of claim to the throne and lands to which I was once entitled, effective immediately as of this moment.”

“What on Earth are you doing?” she asked.

“Stepping down as King, so we can have an actual conversation.”

“That can't possibly be legally binding.”

He laughed. “It wouldn't take much more than that, actually. My signature in a few places and an eligible noble to seize the vacuum of power. Now are you done changing the subject?”

She had good reason not to believe Liam, the nagging voice in the back of her head insisted. In spite of her defence of Maxon moments ago, she had been hurt by his empty promises. Meeting Liam’s earnest blue eyes though, she had trouble holding fast to her resentment. He handed over his power in an instant to make her more comfortable. Not to mention that he had gotten her to a safe room, and comforted her through the night. Kriss could still imagine his arms around her, sheltering her in the dark, as they whispered about the future. He had been beyond kind. If all he truly wanted was to understand her refusal, she owed him that much.

Kriss twirled the ring in her fingers as she answered. “I'm tired, Liam. I want to be teaching lessons, not receiving them. I don't want to be paraded in front of cameras or answering to reporters or evaluated anymore.”

“I can't guarantee we won't ever be the subject of the press, but I was planning on something far less public to start. Private beaches and coves, time in the royal menagerie, rented out galleries, dinner at the palace. Rumor has it, I know a volcano or two we can hide away in if nothing else will do,” Liam teased.

“Somewhere away from the publicity would be nice.” Kriss's smile returned.

“I'm only inviting you all the way to Europe because I don't know anywhere in Illéa we would get any privacy. As I understand it, you'll be more of a celebrity back home than I am in most parts of Cordonia,” he added.

It was only then that she realized how different his offer was from the Selection. She’d be away from crowds and interviews and anyone who cared that she’d competed for Maxon. “You're promising peace and quiet?”

“As long as you stay away from reading the tabloids or watching the news, you won't notice the fanfare. My guards will keep anyone from approaching us.”

Kriss dropped his ring back in his palm. “I'm sorry. I must seem so ungrateful.”

“You seem cautious. That's a good quality, and frankly understandable after all you've been through. Thank you for thinking it over. I'll make sure no one tries to talk you out of your convictions this time.”

“You're welcome.”

Liam stood up, and slid his ring back into place. “It was an absolute pleasure to meet you.” Bowing, he brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Please give my regards to your parents.”

“Liam, wait. I wasn't declining. You can tell them yourself.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You’re certain this time?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, do you have any advice on impressing your parents?”

“Be the opposite of you, lean into formality, propriety. They'll want to know how I can learn and grow from the opportunity.”

“I can handle that. I’m ready if you are.”

She pressed a hand to his chest. “Wait. One more question first: Why me?”

“I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking.”

“That room held dozens of women who needed to get to safety, why did you rescue me?”

“You and the Queen-to-be were separated from everyone else. I knew there was a good chance the others would be led out together, but once the prince had been shot, he needed someone to risk coming for both of you. And perhaps I should have left it to someone else, but I know what it's like to be powerless to get to someone you love. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd just left you.”

"So simple chivalry then? Luck and proximity meant you ended up with me?"

"I suppose that's partially true, but if you'll forgive such a fanciful notion, I prefer 'fate' to 'luck'." He shot her a wide smile as he got up.

Kriss hopped off the bench, smoothing down her skirts and patting at her hair.

Liam visibly slipped into regal mode, standing taller, his hands folded behind his back, his stride purposeful and even. Kriss, in contrast broke into a run as soon as she spotted her parents, barreling straight into their arms.

“We’re so glad you're safe,” Mrs. Ambers said.

“The only good thing about Maxon’s choice is that soon we’ll have you home,” Mr. Ambers added.

“About that,” Kriss said. “There's someone I’d like you to meet.” She glanced behind her and Liam strode forward. “Mom, Dad. His Majesty King Liam of Cordonia.”

They both bowed, which Liam returned partway before saying, “Mr. and Mrs. Ambers, it is my honor to meet the people responsible for raising Lady Kriss, whose beauty and grace is only outmatched by her brilliant mind and sparkling conversation. Has she had a chance to explain the reason for our meeting?”

Kriss's cheeks glowed as if they'd caught fire. “N-not yet. Liam has invited me on a cultural tour of his Kingdom. I'd like to accept.”

“With your permission, of course,” Liam added. “Cordonia has a number of fine museums and a rich history. I think Lady Kriss would find it educational, and a bit of reprieve from the celebrity and stress of the Selection.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Mrs. Ambers said. “Are you extending the opportunity to everyone?”

Liam glanced away, feeling like he'd been caught. “Ah, no, the invitation is just for her.”

“Your Majesty, a word in private?”

“Of course, sir.”

Mr. Ambers led Liam a distance away. “I know I'm just a teacher with no power to make you change your mind, but I beg of you, don't do this. Don't dazzle a young girl with dreams of foreign adventures. She's already gotten her heart broken once.”

Liam stole a look back at Kriss still speaking softly to her mother. “Mr. Ambers, I watched your daughter cry her eyes out over Prince Maxon. I could never hurt her like that. The only heart at risk here is mine, I assure you.”

“You sound awfully sure of your feelings for someone who has known her only a short time.”

“How long did you need to know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her mother?”

Mr. Ambers looked over at his wife with similar fondness. Suddenly Liam's certainty about the prospect of life-long love seemed a lot less impossible. “Permission granted, Your Majesty.”

* * *

Elsewhere in the Illéan palace, Elise was busy making some plans of her own. “Hana!” she called rushing down the hall.

Hana turned and smiled at her, though worry soon replaced it. “Elise, is everything all right?”

“Yes, just fine. I had heard your king was leaving, I thought I might have missed you.”

“Not leaving quite yet. King Liam has some final business to attend to and I...” Hana huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I am not sure what I plan to do next.”

“That's good,” Elise said.

“Good?”

“My aunt invited me to her estate in New Asia. My parents thought I could take some business meetings, and I wanted to check on the war efforts.”

“War efforts? Who is at war?”

Elise stared at Hana in disbelief. “Illéa and New Asia, of course. I thought you'd been back to see your parents recently?”

Hana had, and knew that from the New Asian perspective, this “war” was little more than a glorified trade dispute and some posturing. Still, not wanting to upset her newest friend said, “I was. I guess I didn't catch much about the national conflicts, it was more of a personal visit. Anyway, what does your trip have to do with me?”

“Oh right! I just wondered if you might wish to come too?”

“If you're sure it's okay with your family, I don't see why not,” Hana said politely, then with a quick glance up and down the corridor, broke into hopping up and down.

Elise hugged her, joining in. “We're going to have so much fun!”

* * *

Maxon, as promised, managed to clear everyone from his room to give Liam a private audience. After the basic pleasantries were exchanged, Maxon launched right into the heart of things.

“I heard you're headed back to Cordonia tomorrow, I thought you'd intended to extend your stay.”

“I had, but as you well know, circumstances rarely proceed in accordance with our plans,” Liam retorted, his expression icy. He stepped closer dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. “Or was the slaughter of innocents acceptable collateral damage so long as you could ascend to the throne earlier?”

“I'm not sure what you think you believe, but that's not true! How could you take me for someone who would want anyone hurt for something that petty?”

“My mistake. Clearly, you had excellent reasons for letting terrorists right in through the front doors to take aim at each other. The men you lost were an unfortunate accident. Had Bastien not been there you might have lost one of your former suitors as well.”

“Believe me or not, I did. And I know,” Maxon replied through gritted teeth. “You seem to have conveniently forgotten they shot me too.”

Liam remained unsympathetic, folding his arms across his chest. “Vengeful murderers being unreliable is hardly a surprise.”

“I don't have to listen to you insult me, my country, or to continue to accuse me of heinous acts of violence in my own home. We're on equal footing now, Your Majesty.”

“Are we? If Bastien dies, it would be enough grounds to convict you in International Court. As it is, I could probably have brought up on something. Are you willing to bet it won't be attempted assassination?”

Maxon's eyes go wide. “Please, don't.”

Liam folded his hands behind him again, shaking his head. “I won't unless I must. I do not wish to further destabilize an already volatile Illéa. I have three conditions.”

“Name them.”

“Bastien continues to receive the best care available to you here.”

“That was never in doubt. Proceed.” Maxon waved him on with his good arm.

“The Duke and Duchess of Valtoria have elected to remain here in my stead. I expect them to be heavily guarded. Should any harm come to either of them...it won't be courts you have to fear.”

“Understood. And?”

The clouds across Liam's face lifted. “Finally, for reasons I cannot fathom, Kriss Ambers of Columbia demands I seek your permission before she can consider me.”

Maxon's jaw dropped open. “When did you...” he stammered.

Liam couldn't help but smile. “It's amazing what you learn about a person while fleeing for your life.”

“I shall alert her it is granted, assuming she's shown any interest at all.”

Liam was amused by Maxon's attempt at a dig. “She has. Unlike you, I don't need to date women by lottery, nor earn their fidelity under penalty of death.”

“Cordonians could use a lesson or two in fidelity. It wasn't my choice that passed me over for my best friend.”

“That would have been quite an impressive feat for Queen America given from what I've heard you have no friends, best or otherwise.”

“I believe we are done here. I highly suggest you get out of my sight.”

“It shall be my pleasure.” Liam turned and left.


	5. Easier to Be

Once Liam was back in Cordonia, Madeleine had insisted she join him and a couple of his parents’ friends for breakfast. He'd dealt with several supposedly pressing issues in growing confusion. “Nothing here was so dire that I couldn't have dealt it while abroad or allowed it to wait until I came home,” he said.

Madeleine didn't bother to contradict him. “You're right. I lied, in the hopes that I could get you home before you did anything foolish. Clearly, I failed spectacularly.”

“Oh?”

“You insulted the new King of Illéa! And as though that weren't bad enough, you bring back a human souvenir. Please tell me you're not too in love with the girl, Liam.”

“First, she's neither a trinket nor that much younger than me. If you do not wish to call Lady Kriss by her name, then at least call her a woman.”

She cut him off before he could continue with whatever other nonsense might distract him from the crisis at hand. “What the woman is, is ineligible.”

Liam paused, a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. He set it down. “What, why?”

“One foreigner the Prince picked up on a flight of fancy abroad is charming. Two, especially from the same country, looks like a deliberate pattern. European noble families who assume they had an opportunity to suggest their daughters feel slighted, others wonder why a Cordonian woman isn't good enough for you. Olivia has quite a following,” Madeleine added hopefully.

Liam frowned at his plate. “Olivia's not an option. She met someone on the trip as well.”

“We could work out an arrangement with him.”

“Her,” corrected Liam absently.

“Much the better. No chance of cluttering the line of succession and we can spin their association as friendship.” Madeleine was already taking notes.

“You're terrible.”

“I'm practical, as _you_ should be.”

Part of him was disgusted he'd ever thought he could marry Madeleine, who saw the world solely in terms of currying favor. His dutiful side, however, conceded she had a point.

Olivia would do it, he knew. She cared for him and the crown enough to hide her truth from the world. He could see her playing the role of his wife for the cameras at court functions and laying dutifully with him until they produced an heir. Familiarity would breed just enough warmth between them to make the arrangement tolerable. Certainly better than picking out a complete stranger.

“Earth to Liam, where'd you go?” She'd stopped just shy of snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Just picturing my future according to the Countess of Fydelia. I'll speak to Olivia, be certain she's onboard.”

Madeleine shot him a pleased look like she might want to tell him he was a good boy. He pushed away his plate and stood before she could say another word.

Madeleine got to her feet as well.

“Don't try to pressure us into this by going to the press. Go ahead and let them speculate.”

“As you wish.” She curtsied to him before leaving, the insult in the action at being ordered around clear.

* * *

Olivia had been surprised when Liam had phoned that morning and asked if she could clear her schedule for a private lunch. He'd rented out a restaurant for the occasion and if she'd been one of his Illéan peasants, surely a grand romantic gesture would have followed. As it was, Liam was staring at nothing, working out some puzzle he hadn't seen fit to share.

Olivia broke into his musings. “You're thinking about something more difficult than the menu.”

“I am. You know me too well.”

“I've known your face a long time. So, what is it?”

“Olivia, would you still marry me?” He asked the question with the same lack of enthusiasm he'd used to declare he'd chosen Madeleine at the end of the social season.

“Not if you're asking like that,” she said before breaking into overplayed laughter. As Liam's expression remained serious, her chuckles subsided. Her smile grew tight. “You're serious.”

He nodded. “I know it's far from ideal. But Regina and my father were friends first and eventually things changed between them. I'm prepared to offer you the same arrangement Madeleine and I had, it would be unfair to expect fidelity under these circumstances.”

“Far from ideal,” she repeated, caught off guard by how badly it hurt to hear him confirm that at best she was someone he might grow to love in time. “Very romantic, Liam. Is that how you proposed to Wendy? No wonder she preferred Walker.”

She savored the brief look of pain that flickered across his face before he could rein it back in. More proof she had never been worthy of him anyway.

“Was that necessary?” he asked once he’d recovered his composure.

Olivia deflected that with, “Is this proposal necessary? What happened to the eager new puppy?”

“Kriss isn't polling well. I don't know if she's up for fighting for a place here; we’ve only just met.”

“Wendy did,” countered Olivia, surprising herself. “If you love her, you deserve to make her the offer at least.”

“She's not Wendy,” he snapped. “Madeleine is right about me. I went off and got enamored with the very first woman I came across, twice. It's time I grew up.”

“No.” Olivia leaned forward, took Liam’s hand, tracing the lines in his palm. “It's long past time you got what you wanted.”

“Follow your heart is not the advice I expected from you. Weren’t you just criticizing my judgement a moment ago?”

Olivia resisted the urge to sigh. “Not genuinely.” Then because she'd already gone this far in on being charitable added, “Why do I usually insult anyone?”

“Usually because they've hurt...” He trailed off and she watched as he worked out exactly what that meant. “Olivia, I—”

She cut him off with, “Don't.”

“But I owe you—”

“Nothing. Apologies are a luxury for lesser people.” Olivia signalled for the server. He took their orders and engaged in meaningless chatter with Liam.

She watched as Liam inquired about the man's husband as though they were old friends, though the cheer slipped from Liam's face the moment the man left for the kitchen.

“You’re a better actor than the Queen Mother gives you credit for, but I’m not,” Olivia reminded him. “It wouldn't work. And even if I didn't care about your happiness as my friend, I’d care because an unhappy king makes poor decisions. Show Cordonia what Kriss means to you and polls will change.”

“Perhaps,” Liam said, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“As for Kriss, if she really doesn’t know what she wants, invite her to my ball. A fancy party is good for acclimating to life as a Cordonian royal. If she decides against all of this, we can revisit this conversation and you can work on a proposal that doesn't make me want to stab you.”

“That’s oddly...reassuring.”

“I thought so.”

“Now, tell me about your girlfriend.”

Olivia pulled a face. “Why?”

“Because as your oldest friend I have the right to tease you mercilessly.”

Olivia grinned at that. “If you insist...”

* * *

Later that afternoon, the gently falling snow sticks to Celeste's hair. Wrapped in fluffy white coat and scarf, she looked born to be in Lythikos. Or she would if she wasn't shivering.

Olivia wrapped her arms around Celeste from behind. “Your bedroom has a hot tub,” she murmured, the warmth of her breath tickling the nape of Celeste's neck. “If that's more your style, learning to love the winter wonderland of the duchy can wait.”

“Not a chance,” Celeste said in her haughtiest tone, reluctantly pulling away and crunching her way toward the pond. “You owe me a skating lesson.”

“All right. Just don't go blaming me if you fall on your pretty face.”

Celeste's mittened hands flew to her cheeks and then up to her nose. “Is it really that dangerous?”

Olivia laughed. “Fooled you. You really think I'd let anything happen to those doll-perfect features of yours?” She laughed again.

Celeste bent down and scooped up a handful of snow and lobbed it in Olivia's direction.

The distracted duchess was hit in the chest and looked up. The shock in her eyes shifted to an amused glint. “You are playing above your league.”

“Prove it,” dared Celeste, taking off at top speed. “You can't hit me if you can't catch me.”

Olivia gave chase and they spent the waning daylight flinging snowballs and weaving through the trees surrounding the chateau.

They slipped and fell in a tangle. Celeste was breathing heavy as she propped herself up on her elbows. “You promised you wouldn't let me fall.” Her voice was soft.

“I did. But I think I know how to make it up to you,” Olivia said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before claiming Celeste's lips with her own.

For a second, Celeste did nothing and Olivia started to pull away but then Celeste's lips move against her own, curving into a smile.

“Was...was that okay?” Olivia asked.

“Better than,” confirmed Celeste.

“Really?”

Celeste's eyes glinted. “Let's try again to make sure.”

They stayed there trading kisses for several minutes until a gust of wind kicked up around them to remind them they were both wet and cold and night was falling. Olivia got up first, pulling Celeste to her feet and guided her back inside the chateau. They grew quiet on the short trek back, still wordless as they peeled off their wet outer layers and handed them off to a waiting maid.

Celeste slunk over to Olivia, draping herself over the Duchess's shoulders, kissing along her ear and jawline. “You mentioned a hot tub?”

Olivia hummed in agreement, spinning in her arms to kiss Celeste properly before pulling away. “Mmmhmm,” she murmured, “Follow me.”

They stopped in a wardrobe to change, Celeste whipped off the last layers of fabric off her body in a flash, and Olivia retrained her eyes on the ceiling, as she settled her weapons in a basket.

“What's the point of changing in the open if you're not going to bother to look?” pouted Celeste, before striding past Olivia, slowly.

Olivia's gaze dropped to the gentle sway of Celeste's hips, then panned back up.

“That's better.” Celeste chuckled as she stepped into the bath.

Olivia joined her. “As fun as this has been, we’re going to need to make some choices.”

“Choices?” she asked, running her toes up Olivia’s legs. “What kind of choices?”

“Ones that will be easier to make if you're not so distracting.”

Celeste shifted to straddle Olivia’s lap. “I'll be good. Go on.”

“I'm sure you are very _good_ that’s precisely what I am worried about.”

Celeste claimed Olivia’s mouth in another greedy kiss. “I’ve seen you multitask,” she murmured against her lips.

Olivia returned the kiss with one of her own, before gently pushing Celeste off her and pinning her to the opposite side of the bath. “Listen, we won't be able to do any of this sort of thing while I'm hosting the court. At least not where anyone can see.”

“I can handle a few days of sneaking around, Maxon gave me plenty of practice.” She shot Olivia a toothy smile. “I’m not actually made of porcelain, you know. If you have to stick me at the reject table, or pawn me off on a nobleman, I’ll play along.”

“Oh.” She'd been expecting more resistance. “Well, that works. Thank you.”

“You know, I usually give up on anyone who makes me wait, but for you I can make an exception.”

Olivia let go of Celeste’s arms, trailing them down her sides. “I think you’ll find waiting can be rewarding.”

“I guess I'll be the judge of that. For now, stop stalling and kiss me.”

Olivia didn't have to be asked twice.

* * *

Eighteen hours later, The Winter Festival was in full swing. Olivia bustled around the palace greeting VIPs and chatting with visiting citizens. It was different and busier than last year's had been, now that she was invested in her citizens as individuals.

Even so, eventually hosting duties came to an end and she could settle in at her table for dinner, sipping the rich lobster bisque, and sneaking glances at Celeste, deep in conversation with Kriss.

“Your date’s stealing my date,” complained Liam, though his tone was fond.

“She's not my date,” Olivia said, carefully returning her attention to her bowl. She could feel Liam’s smile on her anyway.

“Whatever you say. But should you want a moment alone, I’d be happy to help cover for you.”

“Or hold your knives,” Maxwell added.

Olivia gritted her teeth back and forth. “Maxwell, my daggers would be safer with your nephew.”

"You don't even need weapons to wound me." He melodramatically slumped backwards, throwing his uncasted hand to his forehead and Olivia snorted.

The music started up for the first waltz of the night.

Olivia stood up, extending a hand to Liam. “As guest of honor, first dance is still yours, if you want it.”

“How could I refuse?” He beamed up at her accepting her hand as they walked toward the dance floor.

Maxwell followed a moment later with Celeste. “Can he actually dance?” she asked when they got even with Olivia and Liam.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Olivia said.

Maxwell shot his good hand in the air, fistpumping. “Olivia recognizes my genius.”

“Oh calm down. Even a monkey can perform a trick or two.”

Maxwell's triumphant smile fell. “Hey!”

Celeste laughed. “As amusing as this is, we're here to dance.”

The four of them stayed for two dances until the floor filled in around them. Only then did Liam switch partners and Olivia was free to take Celeste for a turn about the floor.

She spun Celeste admiring the way her silver dress caught the light. “Having a good time?”

“Better now that I'm not fielding Maxwell's questions. I said I'd entertain a nobleman, not a noble boy.”

“Careful. Maxwell’s a fool, but he is my...acquaintance, and unlike most of the bastards here, he won't mistake exchanging five words with him as an offer of marriage.”

“Your Grace, are you worried about me?”

Olivia's jaw dropped. “No. That's ridiculous. I just—”

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you're flustered?”

“Bite your tongue.”

Celeste stuck out her tongue and gently bit down on it before slowly drawing it back into her mouth with a smirk.

The dance came to an end before Olivia could devise a way to retaliate, which normally would have had her seething. With Celeste, however, it lit an entirely different kind of fire.

Stalking off the dance floor, which took much longer than she would have liked, Olivia finally spotted Liam by the drinks. Scooping up a glass of nog, she asked him. “Is that offer for a distraction still available?”

“Always. Were you thinking extra-long toast, or something to ensure no one will be looking for the lady of the house for the remainder of the evening?” Liam’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“You can arrange the latter?”

He took a long sip of his drink, before answering, “That depends on how jealous Celeste gets.”

“She's practically immune.”

“Good, then I can do this.” Liam tugged Olivia closer, brushing a brief kiss to her lips, before whispering in her ear. “Now, you make a brief stop at our table, then follow me outside, and everyone will make very convenient assumptions about why you're otherwise occupied.”

“Kriss and Maddy are both going to kill you for this,” Olivia said through a smile.

“Madeleine is not my keeper, and Kriss doesn't yet have that right.”

Olivia tipped her head, considering. “Why wouldn't she?”

“Why don't you let me worry about that? If it helps, you can consider this an order from me to have fun.” Liam crossed to the doors and exited the ballroom.

Olivia made her way back to the table with only a slight wobble in her gate. “Maxwell, why don't you give the ladies a tour of the ice palace?” she suggested breezily, then followed Liam out.

A handful of minutes later, the five of them had piled into a carriage. Kriss slid over to the opposite side away from Liam which left Maxwell, Olivia, and Celeste to squeeze into the middle.

“Princess,” Celeste prodded Kriss with the toe of one shoe. “It was just a distraction, Liam didn't mean anything by it.”

Maxwell butted in. “Yeah. Liam can kiss better than that. Not that I would know, er, personally. But I saw him kiss W— Ow!” Olivia had kicked him, hard.

“Maxwell, out of my carriage,” she ordered.

“Where am I going to go?”

“Back to the ball."

“That's blocks away," he whined. “I'll freeze.”

“It's a good thing you like to jog.”

The carriage came to a stop, and Maxwell hopped out. “You all owe me. I didn't even get to bring _my_ date.”

“Boohoo,” Olivia mocked, yanking the door shut before waving the driver on.

The remainder of the short ride passed in silence even as they pulled up in front of the ice hotel. They disembarked the carriage and split up easily as the other couples around them were too focused on each other to pay attention to new arrivals.

Kriss strode over to sit on the fur blanket in her and Liam's room, not meeting his eyes.

“These really are beautiful sculptures,” marveled Liam as he took in the walls, the bed, and the other expertly-carved furnishings.

“You say that like you've never been to see them until now.”

“Haven't had anyone worth bringing here before. I can't say I'm disappointed to be here with you, but I know this is all a bit much.”

“It is,” she agreed with a relieved sigh.

“I could regale you with ice sculpture facts while we wait?” he offered, chuckling.

“I'd rather ask you a question.”

“Go on.”

“Can you really kiss someone and it mean nothing to you?” she looked incredibly distressed at the mere suggestion, and it broke Liam's heart.

“Yes,” he admitted, “just not for the reason you suspect.”

“How do you know that?”

“Lady Kriss, my first kisses were _lessons_ wedged between memorizing dossiers on the nobility and arts of conversation.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. It was difficult to imagine something so precious as a first kiss stripped of all love and meaning. “That sounds awful. What would you need them for?”

“A king’s son must know how to entertain a lady,” he intoned, the words flat. “To my father, learning to kiss was just another skill or bit of knowledge. No more or less important than fork placement or dancing.” His face crumpled.

This raw vulnerability was new, reminding Kriss there was a man under all these courtly trappings. She stepped forward to wrap her arms around him.

Liam sank into her embrace. “I've been taught from before I was even likely to inherit Cordonia that securing the right partner had very little to do with me as a person and everything to do with knowing the right ways to impress.”

“Is that still how you see it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don't know what to think,” he confessed. “I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but it's precisely because of my upbringing that I promise I won't ask anything of you lightly.” His gaze bore into hers. “I got to choose you. That's the highest honor I have to give that is freely mine.”

Kriss pulled out of his arms, and crossed the room to pluck the fur blanket off the bed and drape it over Liam's shoulders. “We should stick together. Cordonia would never forgive me if I let Your Majesty freeze to death.”

“It would make for quite the international incident.” He pulled her in by the waist, and she tucked her head under his chin. “There, I'm warmer already,” he said cheerfully.

“So people really make love on a block of ice.”

“I've been told it's quite the experience. In the spirit of honesty, it's always been a goal of mine.”

“Really?” Kriss cast a doubtful look around the room. In spite of the beauty of the shimmering clear ice, it all looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Why?”

“I have a well-developed sense of adventure, and I rather enjoy getting into trouble.” He leaned in then stopped himself just in time.

“Does that work on other girls?” she asked, running a finger along his lips.

“I only see one woman whose opinion matters to me right now,” Liam said running his fingers up her back. “And right now, I'm perfectly content to let her mock me.”

“You deserve it,” she huffed.

“For future reference, are you against sex in all semi-public spaces or just ones with transparent walls?”

“There are _more_ on this list of yours?”

His cheeks colored and not from the cold. “Yes. Beaches, pools, gardens add a fragrant experience, and the carpet of my private box at the opera house seems plush...”

“Was your mother killed by a bed?” she teased.

“No. My mother was poisoned, actually.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, and though caught off guard by the honesty, she realized her response wasn't just a platitude.

“Me too. But it taught me how precious life is, how precious love is.” He pulled their conversation back it where it had begun. “Not every kiss matters, but that doesn't take anything away from the ones that do. _You_ matter to me already. Even if you go back to Columbia without anything further happening between us.”

A moment passed and then two and Liam thought that when he got back to his room, alone yet again, he was going to call Drake and inform him that he did not, in fact, always get what he wants.

“Thank you,” Kriss said, her answering smile bright.

For as long as Kriss would have him, though, Liam was prepared to love exactly that.

* * *

Not long thereafter, the four of them piled into the carriage for a return trip to the chateau. Olivia and Celeste pulled out mirrors to check their hair and reapply their makeup.

Liam couldn't resist teasing them. “You must have had fun.”

“That's none of your business,” snapped Celeste.

“Isn't it though? However can I keep up the ruse if I don't know what I was up to?” He winked at Celeste.

“Use whatever you and Kriss got up to as a guide,” she suggested.

“About that,” Olivia chimed in. “You’re looking disappointingly unrumpled.”

Liam reached up and mussed his own hair. “Is that more to your liking?”

Kriss, for her part, was making an intense study of the carriage carpet.

“Oh my god,” Celeste exclaimed. “She didn't do anything, did she?”

Kriss looked up and met Celeste’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then glanced at Liam and shut it again.

“Not that it's any of _your_ business, but Kriss made tonight an evening I won't soon forget,” Liam answered.

Celeste's curiosity placated, conversation turned away onto other less personal topics.

* * *

Olivia knew that Liam would never take her advice on his own, so once she closed the ball with her toast and said her goodbyes to the required people, she headed for Kriss’s guest room.

She knocked. “Kriss, may I come in?”

Kriss answered the door with, “Good evening, Your Grace.” But Olivia didn't waste more time with words, instead invading Kriss’s space until she was backed up against a wall. Olivia flashed her best predatory grin, and to Kriss’s credit, she didn't wilt.

“How can I help you?” Her voice was quiet, poised. Olivia wasn't sure what to make of the possible future queen.

“I gathered from tonight that Liam hasn't told you yet.”

“Told me what?”

“That he's running out of time to be single.”

Kriss froze. Then shook her head minutely.

Olivia tsked. “Of course he hasn't. Rather break his own heart than pressure you into making a decision.”

“That sounds about right, as does sending his friends after me.”

Olivia let out a bark of laughter. “No one orders around a Nevrakis. I'm here because I love him. He was the one I dreamed about growing up, and I wanted him to pick me more than anything.”

“So, you're here to make sure I give up and go home?”

“No. I'm here to figure out if you're worthy of how much he loves you.”

“He said that?”

“He doesn't have to. Just see him look at you. Liam would give you anything, you know.”

“That's easy enough for someone with a country's worth of riches at his disposal,” Kriss said.

Olivia scoffed. “I don't mean gifts. He lives to bring joy to other people. If you don't believe me, go ahead and test him. Ask him for something you think he wouldn't in a million years grant. See what happens.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you want proof that you're not making some kind of mistake, that you won't go all in on someone who isn't sure about you twice.” Olivia didn't wait for confirmation. “Liam’s not Maxon.”

She turned to leave, her hand reaching for the knob before Kriss said, “That’s the problem.”

Olivia turned to face her again. “There's only one Maxon, and he's gone. Liam likes you enough to take a chance and set aside his own heartbreak. Either tell him he's wasting his time before he throws everything away, or give him an actual chance, because right now he deserves better than either of us.”


	6. Somebody to You

Bastien reflected that he had healed slower than anyone else in the hospital wing. He knew the strange injections guards here in Illéa took had something to do with their quicker progress, but he hadn't liked the way the drug felt and enlisted Liam’s help in getting it removed from his medical regimen as soon as he could. He was agitated enough without a mystery chemical coursing through him.

In exchange, he eased back on the painkillers as early as possible, and worked diligently at his rehabilitative therapy until he could hobble his way up to Drake's room. Once there, he knocked.

Drake answered the door. Bracing himself against the door frame, Bastien kicked Drake in the shin.

“Shit, Bas. Did you really climb two flights of stairs for that?” Drake hopped toward his bed, hugging the bruised limb to his chest.

“It was long past due, Your Grace.” Bastien let go of the door long enough to bow, just to annoy Drake a little further.

Wendy emerged from the ensuite, chuckling as she dragged a brush through her hair. “Is this about his insistence that we can take care of ourselves?”

“Indeed, Wendy.”

Drake glared at both of them. “So, she isn't getting the ‘Your Grace’ crap?”

A tiny smile graced Bastien features. “She didn't call me obsolete.”

“That's not what I said,” Drake defended.

“What he means is we're glad to have you up and about.” Wendy offered Bastien a hand. “Now, come and sit, and I can pack up while Drake apologizes with something worth eating.”

“That isn't necessary. I can—”

“Do not make me pull out my Duchess hat and insist.”

“You brought that ridiculous hat?” Drake wheeled on her.

She looked away from him. “No, it's metaphorical.” Her face fell. “Forget it. I was only trying to help.”

“Your help is the problem,” Drake said and stormed out as Bastien hobbled in to sit on the bed. Wendy began throwing clothes roughly into a suitcase.

“If you’ll forgive the intrusion, can I ask what has Drake so angry?”

Wendy turned to look at Bastien, a dress still bunched in her fingers. She twisted to stuff it in with the rest as she said, “Isn't that obvious? He blames me. Don't you?”

“Blames you for what? My injuries? Illéa has been in a perpetual state of civil unrest for decades, with attacks only escalating as of late. This was no more your fault than Anton was,” insisted Bastien.

She sighed. “Drake can't see it that way. And honestly, I'm not sure he's wrong.”

Bastien shook his head at her. “Well if you two are busy feeling guilty, perhaps I can talk you into indulging me in a detour on the way back to Cordonia?”

“What were you thinking?”

“A few days in Sumner. See Bianca's ranch.”

Drake arrived with a tray of bread, his smile back for the first time in days. “Don't have to ask me twice. I'll call Mom now.”

Before they left, Bastien tracked down Aspen. “I just wanted to say you were right. About family.”

Aspen shook his hand. “Congratulations, my friend. Write to me about your next adventure sometime.”

“I will,” promised Bastien, and he did.

* * *

In spite of Hana’s trepidation, Elise’s family accepted Hana as one of their own without question. She also felt their estate was actually of a respectable size, but the array of family staying there made it crowded in the best way. She met people who introduced themselves as all manner of relatives, but Hana had yet to meet Elise's parents. However, Elise confirmed that Hana’s connection to Liam was enough for their approval. The Lees were equally convinced Elise’s wealth meant she could provide for their daughter. Hana’s father sounded at least somewhat happy for her. It wasn't as enthusiastic as either of them had secretly hoped for, but tacit approval was far better than disappointment.

More importantly, their parents' lukewarm acceptance meant that as long as they kept up their commitments Hana and Elise were free to do as they pleased. Finally, liberated from the search for suitors and all that being a suitable match had cost them. With everyone scattered, Hana’s Royal Council commitments were practically nonexistent. Elise was still negotiating a similar position for herself with Maxon, leaving them both with plenty of leisure time.

The two of them decided to celebrate their newfound independence with all the frivolities they’d been denied in favor of training toward their parents' goals. They stayed up at all hours, binging on junk foods and mass produced television, trying out elaborate braiding techniques in each other's hair, facial masks, and about three dozen other ultimate sleepover cliches that Hana discovered doing research.

It wasn’t all fun. Elise got nightmares. Hana understood, she'd had her share last year and she'd been lucky enough to be able to flee to safety during the attacks in Cordonia. Having experienced the stress and terror of Illéa's shelter-in-place strategy, Hana thought it was a wonder that anyone in Maxon's Selection could function at all.

So it didn't surprise her when Elise announced one night a few weeks into their stay that she wasn't going to Maxon's wedding if she could help it. “You can still go,” she offered. “The bride and groom are probably the only people who would notice you aren't me.”

Hana lobbed a pillow at her. “I have no interest in the wedding. Maxon can make do with his thirty-four other runners up.”

Elise cracked up at that, and soon Hana was joining her in a bout of loud, snorting laughter. “How do we get out of it?”

“Blame one of our parents. Urgent business or a diplomatic crisis we simply cannot get out of dealing with,” Hana suggested.

“You're a bad influence.” Elise chucked the pillow back.

Hana squeaked as she dodged the fluffy projectile. “You're welcome.”

Elise tapped her chin. “Now the important question. What do we do instead? Something sporty maybe?”

“We've yet to do pick-up basketball. Apparently, you play with strangers,” Hana suggested.

“Where do we find the other people?”

“I think you just wait by the hoop for them to appear.”

“Okay.” Elise frowned, contemplating. “But if we're waiting too long we play by ourselves.”

“Deal. We also need anti-wedding food. Something messy and greasy, but still delicious.”

Elise laughed, and collected her computer. “That was a given. Let's see what we can find.”

* * *

While Hana and Elise discovered the joys of processed cheese slices as part of their quest toward the ultimate grilled cheese sandwich, Kriss and Liam were being escorted to the front of the aisles.

Kriss hadn't really considered she'd be seated all the way up in the second row. It makes sense now that she's here at the wedding—with Maxon's family gone, only America's family means more to the happy couple than the rest of the Selected. There was a part of Kriss, still, that felt like she belonged up there at the altar. What followed that particular thought though was a stab of both sympathy and guilt directed at the man sitting beside her. As if he could tell she was thinking about him, Liam reached out and clasped her hand in his.

She wasn't the only one of the Selected with a date, thankfully. Many of the others have brought their husbands; among the happy newlyweds was Anna Farmer. Kriss hoped Celeste had met Anna's husband. She would be relieved to know that even though she had orchestrated Anna's removal from The Selection, Anna had still found happiness.

Though Kriss had resolved months ago to put on her best brave face regardless of how she felt about the wedding, she discovered that she was genuinely happy to be here for America, too. Chatting with Natalie and laughing at a joke Tuesday had made, Kriss was convinced she’d get through the wedding after all.

Or she was doing just fine until Maxon's eyes caught hers from his place at the altar, and her smile faltered.

“How can I help?” Liam whispered in her ear, ever attentive.

“How much trouble would you be in if I asked you to kiss me right now?”

“Not nearly enough that I'd refuse. Are you sure?”

Kriss nodded briefly, and then his lips were pressed gently to hers. They were warm and soft and after a few seconds he pulled back again.

“Will that do?” he whispered in her ear.

“It was perfect.” For the remainder of the ceremony, Kriss glowed with contentment.

* * *

That sense of peace lasted into the reception, only unraveling when Kriss realized that Maxon had apparently saved a dance for each of the Selected. Worse yet, he seemed to be going in order of dismissal which meant she'd be last, the eyes of the whole room on her, on them, together.

She swallowed against a wave of nausea. Even her body was unsure she could handle the thought of being so near Maxon, not yet. “I can't do this.”

Kriss didn't realize she'd said it aloud until Liam answered her. “Yes, you can. Moreover, I think you owe it yourself to tell him whatever you need to say where he can't get away from you.”

“You really think it will help?”

“Talking things out helped me. And if it doesn't, I'll be right here to remind you that he's an absolute idiot.”

“Right.” She schooled her features to carefully neutral as she waited for Maxon to drop Celeste's hand and come find her. She wrestled with what to say as Maxon approached.

Maxon bowed smooth and fluid. “Kriss, may I have this dance?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Kriss accepted Maxon's outstretched hand and he led her away. “Congratulations,” she added, as they move along to the music.

“Thank you,” he replied. “You dance more confidently than you used to.”

“Thanks. I’ve had some more practice. It’s basically Cordonia’s national sport.”

She's still working out what else to say when he laughed in her face.

“What's so funny?”

“Both Celeste and America warned me not to hurt you.”

“They’re too late,” Kriss shot back.

Maxon rolled his eyes at her. “You seem to be just fine with the foreign king.”

“Well I'm not,” she admitted. “I love you. I wanted to win, Maxon, but I lost and this hurts, and if you can't see that than I regret ever being attracted to such an idiot.” She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry.

“I'm sorry,” he said, sobered.

Thankfully for both of them, the song had wound to a close. “Consider your apology accepted. Goodbye, Maxon.” Kriss forced out the words with some degree of composure, but they were undercut by the speed at which she turned and fled to a corner. Without even thinking about it, she'd ended up finding Liam in the crowd.

He shot her a sympathetic look as he pressed a glass of champagne into her hands. “Sip slowly. If you look busy, no one will pay much attention.”

She nodded, then took a long swallow anyway.

The wedding reception itself drew to a close not long thereafter. She overheard someone crack a joke about Maxon's eagerness for the wedding night that made Kriss's heart sink like lead. She was all too glad to leave the ballroom and find out where she'd be staying.

“Your old room has been made up for you, Miss Ambers,” said a maid Kriss didn't recognize. “You have the adjoining, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” they both said and Kriss slipped her hand into Liam's as they head down the hall. Once they’d reached their doors, her pulse raced in her ears as she said, “Once you get changed, if you wanted to come over for a bit, I mean it will probably be a while before I get to sleep and...” she trailed off, hoping her face wasn't glowing.

“I'd love to,” he declared just loud enough for her to hear.

Kriss smiled as she slipped into her room. She was glad to see familiar faces and happily accepted her former maids’ help in getting changed into a nightgown, but then dismissed them to their great confusion.

“I'm expecting a visitor,” Kriss explained, sure her face was burning now.

“Awww Kriss! We're happy for you. Liam is such a nice boy.”

Kriss's embarrassment ebbed in the face of their encouragement. “He is, isn't he?”

A knock sounded at the door and the trio of maid rushed to answer it. “Good evening, ladies,” Liam said, bowing and they filed out past him, giggling.

“Are you turning me into the subject of gossip?” he asked, sounding amused. He shut the door behind him.

“Not intentionally! Do you mind?”

He smiled. “On the contrary, I'm flattered to know you want to tell someone about me. I wasn't even sure you'd be returning to Cordonia after today. We hadn't expressly talked about it, and well I didn't want to presume.”

“I'm definitely going back to Cordonia, if you'll have me.”

“Forever,” he agreed readily.

A brief silence fell over the two of them as Kriss finished taking down the last of her hair. She glanced over at Liam, still waiting by the door, hands folded behind him like a Guard at attention.

“Feel free to lie down,” she said.

“Oh.” His mouth dropped open. He climbed into her bed. “Kriss, are we about to?” He made a vague gesture at the space between them.

“Oh, no. No. God, I have made it seem like...” She thunked her head against her hands. “I'm still not ready for _that_.”

“I was going to say that seemed a bit much for showing up your ex.”

She twisted to look at him from her place at the vanity. “I'm sorry. I know you're probably disappointed we can't defile a kitchen counter or a hallway.”

“Well if we were showing up Maxon, obviously the correct answer is against his and America's bedroom door.”

“You'd really do that?” she checked.

“Not on his wedding night, and certainly not when you look repulsed at the mention of the idea.” He sighed.

“Wait, I know I was making a joke before, but are you sure you're not disappointed?”

The trace of irritation melted from his expression, replaced by conviction. “Disappointed by you? Never. I made you a promise. No pressure. Not now, not ever.”

She patted at her hair one last time, then crossed over to the bed and scrambled up next to Liam, snuggling against his side. “What I really wanted to do was thank you.”

“For what? Kissing you? You needn't thank me. I've wanted to do that for ages.”

“Not just that. It's everything. You inviting me to Cordonia and being willing to wait, the dates, coming with me tonight and everything,” she repeated, still slightly flustered.

“You're most sincerely welcome, Kriss.”

She ran her fingers up along his sternum and back down along his ribs absently. A tiny pleased noise escaped his throat.

“Tell me something important,” Kriss said suddenly.

His eyes fluttered open. “Like what?”

Kriss gave him a one-armed shrug with her free hand. “I can't know until you tell me.”

Liam rolled over to face her now, his expression still confused, so Kriss tried to elaborate. “I want to know you. Actual you, not a version of you following a set of rules meant to impress me. If you really had stepped down, who would you be? What would you want?”

“I'm not sure I even know,” he admitted. “The only thing I've ever dared to hope for is a family. I like my life. For all its faults, pressures, tragedies, I really love my country, my people.” He frowned. “I'm sorry. That must seem like a terrible answer.”

“No, it wasn't.” She cuddled even closer, pillowing her head on his chest. “If we were to get married, you'd be part of my family. It’s not very big though. Just mom, dad, and an aunt and uncle I don't see very often.”

“I'm sure they’d be thrilled about that. I absconded with their only child.”

“Hey, my parents really like you. I think they’re definitely in favor of me keeping you around.”

“Thank them for me the next time you talk.”

“I will,” she promised. “Enough about my family, when do I get to meet this infamous brother of yours?”

“Hard to say, Leo returns home for weddings and funerals.”

“So I either need to marry you or find someone to murder. Hmmm.” Kriss pretended to think.

“I'm going to pretend that you are not considering both of those options equally.”

“For the sake of your pride or your sanity?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

Liam went still and quiet for so long Kriss assumed he'd fallen asleep when he said, “I have an answer to your earlier question, about something important. I have an eating disorder.”

Kriss carefully scooted off him and resumed tracing a soothing circuit across his chest, listening.

“It flared up for the first time after my mother died, legitimately; I was scared of being poisoned too. But after that, eating was something I could control, when everything else made me feel powerless.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Which one? Feeling impotent or disordered eating?”

“Either. Both.”

“More often than I'd like. More often than anyone suspects, I think. Even as King, there's so much that isn't up to me and all too often, no matter how hard I try, bad things happen.”

“At least you're always trying.” She climbed over to rest across him, pressing a gentle kiss to his nose.

“And failing.” His arms tightened around her as his expression grew pained. “What right do I have to ask you or anyone else to share this kind of burden?”

“You don't have to ask if I'm volunteering,” she countered.

“And are you?”

“Ask me again sometime when I don't want to kiss you so badly,” she said a second before she captured his mouth with hers. He tipped his head to get them a better angle, and when she pulled back, there was a glow in her soft brown eyes.

“Permission to do that again?” he asked and she nodded.

This time when his mouth met hers, he ran his tongue across her lips. They parted, allowing him to deepen the kiss. It was just a little clumsy in a way he found endearing. That kiss melted into a second, slower than the first and it took more of Liam’s self control than he cared to admit to let Kriss pull away.

“Earlier, if I'd said I was staying in Illéa, would you have considering coming with me?” she asked him.

“Coming with you?” he parroted, his thoughts struggling to keep up with the rapid change in conversation.

“Yes, we could be together without ruling a country. No one to consider but ourselves. No timelines dictating our lives; no pressure to have our children. You could be a Three and we'd find you something to teach. You’d make a wonderful teacher, don't you think?” Kriss wished she could say she was asking with purpose, though truth be told, she was just caught up with daydreaming about slotting Liam into the life she’d always imagined for herself.

Which made it a surprise that Liam thought for only a moment, before taking the question seriously. “You'd want me to abdicate?” His easy smile dimmed. “I'd need time to find the new monarch and put my affairs in order, then deal with emigrating. Would you be able to wait for me?”

“Of course I would, but you can’t mean that. You'd really give up Cordonia for me? You just told me how much you love your country, your people.”

“I do, but I also love you. If that's what it would take to make you happy, I could adjust.” His eyes searched hers with a quiet intensity. “You asked me what I want. What is it you want, Kriss?”

“You love me,” she whispered, half in awe. She didn’t stop to think about the other women who might have heard those words from his lips. Kriss could read the sincerity in his expression and in his tone, and hadn't he proved as much? His heart felt like hers. "I love you too. And right now, all I want is to never let go of you again."

“I'm in favor. However, unless you want to get married in the morning, I’ll need to go back to my own room eventually.”

She pouted at him. “What happened to getting in trouble?”

He drew her back into his embrace and spoke each word punctuated by light kisses. “I did say eventually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Discussion of Liam's canonical eating disorder.


	7. Not Alone

“Celeste, we have a problem,” Olivia said.

“What kind of problem?” she feigned innocence.

“The people of Lythikos are combat ready, and not here for satisfying the whims of a bored model.”

“It's not my fault your staff are worth checking out, and anyway if you worked less, I wouldn't have time to seduce maids.” Celeste rolled her eyes.

“When I instructed my people to serve you, I had no idea you would broaden that definition to in bed,” Olivia retorted.

“Nothing's happened yet. I'm just keeping my options open, unless there's some reason I shouldn't?”

“I admire the strategy in that,” Olivia said, her tone a bit stiff. “But it's not really necessary. Look around; this isn't a competition anymore.”

Celeste opened her mouth then shut it again, unsure what to say. She’d done it automatically.

Olivia went on. “If you're legitimately interested in someone here, at least let me make sure to get them time off, so you don't need to do something tacky.”

Celeste’s eyebrows shot up. “You’d be okay with that?”

“It’s preferable to you throwing off everyone's schedules.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“I know. Unfortunately, you’ll need to decide the answer to that for yourself.” Olivia flashed her one of her I’m dangerous smiles, and a similar intensity blazed from her eyes. Celeste had been admired her entire life, but looking into Olivia’s gaze made her feel truly wanted. “I trust you can handle that.”

“You’d be the first,” Celeste replied.

“Clearly you’ve been surrounded by idiots.”

Celeste laughed, and stepped in to pull Olivia close for a kiss, only for Olivia to circle around behind Celeste, nudging her forward. “If you're just looking for company while I’m not around, I know someone else who will be thrilled to meet you. Come with me.”

Celeste allowed Olivia to steer her across the grounds by the shoulders with minimal objection. “This had better be good.”

“I'm full of delightful surprises.” Olivia stopped in the middle of a field, and made a kissy sound. A snow leopard appeared over the hill. Olivia let out a distinctive whistle and the leopard happily bounded his way toward them.

“Whoa! He's yours?”

Olivia nodded. “Serik, this is Celeste. Celeste, this is the best boy in the world. I'm sure he'd love a new friend, wouldn't you, sweet boy?” Olivia cooed at the big cat.

A woman in uniform trotted after the leopard, and upon catching up spoke to Celeste. “I'd be happy to help you learn more about how to interact with Serik, my lady.”

“Maisie is my resident animal expert,” Olivia said, by way of introduction.

Serik found a sunny patch of snow, and curled up for a nap. “He's eaten recently and he should be amenable to being touched if you'd like to pet him.”

“Definitely!” Celeste followed Maisie to Serik's side, and delighted in the feel of his fur against her fingers. “He's _so_ soft.”

“I know. I have the best job in all of Lythikos,” Maisie gushed.

“Could I get a picture with him?” Celeste asked.

Maisie nodded. “I can bring him inside later for one, once you've learned a few of the basics. We can get started now, if you both have no objection.” Maisie glanced between Olivia and Celeste.

“Yes, thank you,” Celeste agreed.

Olivia smirked, folding her arms across her chest. “My work here is done.”

She slipped away and Celeste called after her. “You're lucky he's nearly as cute as you are!”

* * *

Kriss and Liam’s relationship shifted when they returned from Illéa. To Liam’s surprise, Kriss agreed readily to making a first statement for the press to officially introduce herself to the Cordonian public. Even as he privately delighted in every article that followed the announcement which praised the possible future queen, Liam didn't raise the subject of their engagement again, and another month passed.

“Is there anywhere official I could go?” she asked, one evening at dinner.

“Plenty of places are, but I'm not sure what you're looking for?”

“I just want to make sure I have the whole picture of what you do. It can't all be paperwork and throwing lavish events.”

“No, it isn't. Any particular reason for your sudden interest in a diplomacy lesson?” he asked, not so secretly hoping it meant she was considering making something permanent out of her stay.

Kriss shook her head, giving nothing away. “No ulterior motives here. Just getting the most out of my education.”

* * *

He took her to Portavira with him the following day. Liam's friendship with Landon had grown considerably since Landon had accepted his Royal Council seat and so he and Duchess Emmeline were happy to grant the unusual request.

Unfortunately, Landon had neglected to mention Godfrey happened to be in Portavira when they arrived, and the glare the Duke of Karlington leveled at Kriss had strayed past frosty into murderous. Tension reigned for a moment before Emmeline spoke. “Your Majesty, Lady Kriss. I am so pleased you could come.”

“Duke Godfrey had just expressed he was leaving,” Landon added smoothly. "Wasn't that right?"

Unfortunately, Godfrey was not so easily swayed. “I think I should like to meet the young lady as well.”

Kriss swept into a curtsy. “It’s my pleasure to get to know all of you.”

“I’ll need to have another place set,” Emmeline said, “Kriss, would you mind lending me a hand?”

“Not at all.” Kriss rushed forward. The two women disappeared further into the estate.

As soon as they’d gone, Godfrey turned to Landon. “What are you thinking letting his consort traipse around your grounds?”

“Anyone Liam sees fit to associate with is a friend of Portavira, and welcome in my home,” Landon replied evenly. “A welcome that you are rapidly wearing out yourself.”

“Unbelievable,” scoffed Godfrey. “I assumed she’d turned Liam’s head for being young and pretty. But a happily married man has no such excuse for inviting a terrorist to access potentially sensitive information.”

“Is he speaking the truth, Liam?” Landon asked.

“My daughter isn’t the only one capable of doing her research,” Godfrey put in.

Liam hid his surprise well as he replied, “Calling Lady Kriss’s activism efforts terrorism is more than a bit overblown. If anything Kriss’s actions represent her passion for improving the country in which she lives. If that desire is criminal, then perhaps I should present myself for arrest.”

“Yes. Well.” Godfrey said.

“Well what? If you intend to attack a personal guest of mine, you should have better than one exaggerated piece of evidence against her. Otherwise, it’s far too easy to suspect your true objection: Lady Kriss isn't Madeleine.”

Landon hid his amusement in his sleeve. Godfrey shot him a glare.

“Since we’re apparently in the habit of speaking plainly to each other, let me assure you I’d no longer wish to marry your daughter if you were to find a reason to advise me against every other woman on the face of the Earth, so you might as well stop trying. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on lunch.” Liam followed the direction the women had taken.

He set a hand on Kriss, who’d clearly been having a more pleasant chat than he had if the expression on her face was any indication. “Follow me. Now,” he whispered.

“Excuse me a moment,” she said to Emmeline then trailed after Liam.

He led them to an empty sitting room in another part of the estate.

“Why do you look like someone just died?” she asked when he finally stopped.

“Duke Godfrey has made claims about your past. Suggested you may have been involved with rebel activities in Illéa. Is there any truth to this rumor?”

Kriss nodded. “I was a Northern Rebel. I wasn’t out protesting or anything. Didn’t do much more than attend a few meetings up until I competed for Maxon. They’re the ones who ensured I was in the running.”

Liam sank onto a couch. “What were their plans had you won?”

“A legislative agenda for greater equality and opportunity, a lot of which Maxon and America are implementing. More education, better safety standards, more freedom in general. I wasn’t some kind of black widow, if that’s the impression you’d gotten.”

“I couldn’t see you as a murderer,” Liam said. “But that’s what everyone says when a murderer is caught.”

“Think back to the night we met. Trained killers aren't usually found cowering under a table in tears. It was the Southerners who thought the Kingdom needed to be taken by force. We preferred a nonviolent approach.”

“You’re still technically a domestic terrorist.” Liam sighed heavily.

“Hardly. We were basically anthropologists. We wanted to rescue old literature from destruction, campaign for accurate history.”

“It all sounds very noble,” he assured her. “But the tabloids will take the dimmest possible view. I wish you’d told me, so I could be better prepared.”

“I thought you knew. I did tell you I was working to change Illéa when we met, and since then, it hasn’t seemed relevant.”

“Why wouldn't it be relevant?” he asked.

“Because I decided I wasn't moving back to Illéa.”

Kriss intended to stay in Cordonia, permanently. Did she mean to stay with him or had he ruined that now by interrogating her like a common criminal? He'd known Godfrey was merely jealous and yet he'd allowed the older man to get the better of him. Liam wanted to propose and beg her forgiveness and to celebrate all at once, but he was prevented from saying anything at all because Emmeline arrived.

“You both should know that Godfrey has gone," she announced. “Apparently he's contented himself with instigating lovers' quarrels, but I won't have you making this trip for nothing.” Her tone softened. "Please rejoin Landon and myself.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Kriss had decided four things. She liked Portavira; she'd definitely enjoy diplomacy; Emmeline and Landon reminded her of her parents; and Liam needed...something. She watched him pick at his fish as they chatted. Kriss set a hand on his knee and ran her hand upward, drumming her fingers against his thigh. He caught her hand under the table, smiling. Better yet, he actually swallowed some of his meal.

“What's wrong?” she asked, as soon as they were alone again. They had curled up on a couch in a different seating area, this one with a fireplace.

“I rather thought you might be angry with me,” he said, staring into the flickering flames.

“Why?”

Liam frowned. “At the suggestion of one man I was nearly ready to mistrust everything I knew about you.”

“A wise man once told me caution serves leaders well.” A half-smile graced her lips, and she nudged him. “You asked a few questions, in private. I can forgive that.”

He buried a kiss in her hair. “I'm grateful for your understanding all the same.”

“I guess it's the first in a line of many awkward questions I'm in for when you announce me as future Queen of Cordonia,” she said casually as though this weren't news, purely for the joy of watching his brain short circuit.

“You're...you...you mean,” he stammered out a few more half finished sentences before giving up on words entirely and instead crashed his mouth against hers.

She returned the kiss eagerly, nuzzling along his throat before Liam pulled back to look into her eyes.

“You do know this will mean making a celebrity of yourself. Our every decision scrutinized, attending seemingly unnecessary functions and constantly dealing with reporters?”

She nodded. “I do, and I don't care anymore. Whatever it takes. I love you.”

“I love you too. You've made me the happiest man alive. Let me make this official.”

He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, plucked a ring box from his pocket, and held it out for her to inspect.

“Kriss Ambers, of the Illéan providence of Columbia, will you accept this ring?”

“Yes, of course. Oh, it's beautiful!” she shrieked, throwing her arms around his neck.

“I'm glad you like it,” he said, kissing her again briefly before slipping the ring into place on her finger.

She admired the stone for a moment, before tugging on Liam, who drew himself to his feet before lifting Kriss off of the couch. “Where are we headed now?”

“Somewhere private enough to call our loved ones?” he suggested, spinning her around once.

“Uh huh. I’m sure that’s all you want the privacy for.”

“If you so happen to decide that you find the room suitable for something else, I certainly won’t object, but you can’t tell me you aren’t dying to call your mother.”

“Okay, guilty.” She brushed another kiss to his lips. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

Liam chuckled. “I think that’s why you’re marrying me.”

* * *

As it turned out, Olivia had also been right about the ease with which Kriss was able to win over Cordonia. As current front-runner, she lent her support in a press conference, and similar press releases from the other duchies followed. A handful of personal appearances and a glowing joint interview generated positive buzz. Above all, Cordonia wanted stability and Liam positioned Kriss as the key to that end.

“I'm sorry about the stress of the last few weeks,” Liam said from bed one evening.

“Sneaking into my room for cuddles is definitely making it worthwhile.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, but now that the media circus is behind us and wedding planning is underway we can turn our attention to the fun things.”

“What sort of fun are you proposing?”

“Right now, suggestions for your premarital party.”

Kriss laughed. “Does this kingdom ever run out of things to party about?”

Liam joined in. “I hope not. Parties are an excellent excuse to spend my time with my ravishing, wonderful, charming wife-to-be.”

“You need an excuse?”

“Never. But throwing a gala is a lot less scandalous than putting ‘worship my queen’ in my day planner. Anyway, your bachelorette party need not be a ball, it doesn't even have to be a party of any sort really. It's just about having fun before you're stuck with responsibilities of marriage, of the crown, of producing an heir.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Are you going to have one?”

“I've already had two. Which is more than enough.”

“Two?”

He looked sheepish. “Once before my Selection began, I went to a bar in Waverly. From there, Duchess Wendy took us to a beach and the Statue of Liberty.”

“And you were in love forevermore,” she teased. “And the second time?”

“After I was forced to pick Madeleine, she arranged for me to have a demure evening consuming steak and cigars.”

Kriss laughed outright at the picture that conjured up. “Had she met you?”

“You wouldn't think so, from the evening.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Maxwell planned Drake and Wendy's, which went better. They had a joint party and invited their friends. We took part in a magician's performance, went dancing, had a scavenger hunt.”

Kriss hummed in acknowledgement. It sounded cute, but not for her.

“As for yours, if you're looking for suggestions, I thought you might like a trip to Italy? I’ve heard Princess Nicoletta is a friend of yours. We could fly in your parents, and a friend or two.”

“That sounds perfect!”

“In that case, I'll make the arrangements immediately.” Liam moved to get up and Kriss pulled him back to her.

“Maybe not right this minute?” she suggested. “I was comfortable.”

“As my queen commands,” he murmured, brushing a kiss behind her ear as he snuggled down beside her once more.

* * *

America arrived on the eve of Kriss’s Italian trip, hoping to spend extra time with the bride and be sure she wasn’t making the mistake she seemed to be. First on America's agenda was seeking an audience with Liam, to get a better sense of the man.

“Your Majesty, I'm delighted you could come. I know it will mean the world to Kriss that you're here.”

“You're welcome. Though to be honest, after the way you spoke to Maxon, I nearly didn't come.”

Liam's friendly expression crumpled to stern. “Forgive me if I was less than enthused to politely chat with a man who had a woman publicly beaten for not returning his affections.”

“Maxon saved her life the only way he could!” insisted America. “If you'd bothered to ask, you would know that he sheltered her and her husband in the palace in secret until he could reinstate her to court.”

Liam's voice rose. “He was the Crown Prince. Who the hell was he hiding her from?”

“His father!” America shouted back. Her words rang out off the walls in the sudden quiet that followed. She continued at a reasonable speaking volume. “Clarkson loved nothing and no one but power. His law dictated that Marlee should die to remind the rest of the Selected of his control over the future Princess. Maxon only narrowly convinced him a public flogging would have the same effect.”

“That's horrific,” Liam said. His stomach swooped at the very thought of having to beg his father to spare anyone's life.

“I'm willing to bet you don't even know the half of it. Was your father anything like that? Has anyone ever beaten you?”

“No. Never. My father was stern, and occasionally distant, but he would never have hurt me.”

America internally wrestled with something for a moment, before beckoning Liam closer.

He complied, leaning forward so she could speak privately.

“Maxon was regularly whipped until he bled. Pummeled until he could barely stand. Much of it he accepted to save me a similar fate. And if you breathe a word of that to anyone, I will personally come back and cut your tongue free of your mouth.” America took a step back and her polite smile returned. “Do you understand?”

Liam stepped back and sank into his throne, needing to sit to digest everything he'd just heard. “Far better than I did, ma'am. You're safe now then?” he checked.

“The rebels are still dangerous. But from Maxon, never. He's not his father. Do you watch the Reports?”

“No, but I'm briefed on matters of political import, like your plan to dissolve the Caste system. Congratulations on enacting that.”

“Thank you. But that means you probably didn't hear me tell the world when I first met Maxon I kneed him in the groin.”

“No. I can't say that made the briefing.”

“I thought he was going to kiss me,” continued America. “And I had been expressly instructed to deny the Prince nothing. All of us were.”

“They said what?” Liam's grip on the arms of his throne tightened until his fingers changed color.

“Maxon never pushed us,” she assured Liam quickly, before he decided to insult her husband again. “I'm only telling you this because there's a chance you may have benefitted from this part of our 'barbaric Illéan customs' yourself. Perhaps Kriss feels those lessons apply to foreign monarchs as well.”

America's words couldn't have shocked him more if she had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. Had Kriss possibly mistaken his love for an order? He felt sick just considering it. “You'll find out for me, won't you? If that is true, I want to let Kriss know that she is free to go at any time and certainly under no obligation to marry me.” He glanced at his own engagement ring and felt a fresh wave of nausea.

America looked distinctly relieved. “Of course. Can you show me to her room?”

Liam nodded and stood, offering America his arm. “Right this way, Your Majesty.”

Liam led her to Kriss's door, then left back the way he'd come with a bow.

America knocked. Kriss pulled open the door and let out a happy squeal.

“America! I mean My Queen, what an honor.” Kriss dropped into a low curtsy.

America laughed, before hugging Kriss as tightly as she could. “I've missed you. I miss everyone. It's so quiet with just Maxon and me.”

“I've missed you too. Liam takes me out plenty but it's not the same as our days in the Women's Room.” Kriss tugged America further into the room and pulled the door shut.

“I like that dress.”

Kriss twirled letting the golden skirt fan out. “Thanks. Maids don't make them here. I bought it. I don't have staff for just me, either, though I can use the phone to call for just about anything.”

America flopped onto the bed. “The room seems just as comfortable.”

“It is,” Kriss agreed, joining her.

“But you like it here? Like being with him?” America asked.

A smile broke out across Kriss's face. “I really do. Liam is sweet and selfless and considerate...and cute. I didn't think I could admire anyone the way I did Maxon, but he's proved me wrong. And Cordonia is beautiful. I want to help him lead it.”

“Really? He treats you well?”

“Of course. I would never marry him otherwise.” Kriss studied her best friend's face, her own happy expression fading. “Is something wrong?”

“I may owe your fiancé an apology.”

“America, what did you do?”

“I may have implied you're only with Liam because you're a good girl who wouldn't want to disappoint a lonely monarch.” She tugged a pillow over her face.

“You didn't!”

“I thought he was a monster, Kriss. The things he said to Maxon.” America slowly lowered the pillow.

Worry etched itself across Kriss's face. “What things?”

“He accused Maxon of letting the Southern Rebels into the palace, for one.”

Kriss was quiet for a moment, then said, “I want to talk to him about this.”

They found Liam still back in the throne room.

Kriss stepped forward to address him. “First, I need you to know America guessed wrong about us.”

Liam rushed over to draw her close. “You can't know how relieved I am to hear you say that.” Lingering traces of worry were visible to her this close so she kissed him for good measure.

“America also says you think Maxon had something to do with the attack on the night of the announcement.”

Liam lowered his voice as he said, “I accused him of inviting in the terrorist forces. And I would have felt guiltier about it had I not been right.”

“You have to be making a mistake,” America insisted. “Maxon was in league with the peaceful Northern rebels, like Kriss. Not the Southerners.”

Liam sighed heavily. “He admitted it to me, Your Majesty.”

“Maxon let people shoot at us? Why would anyone do that?” Kriss asked.

Even though Kriss had posed the question, Liam directed his response at America. “If I'd known why, if I'd understood that all of you were—”. America looked at him sharply and he faltered. “Had I known then what I know now, I never would have been harsh with him. My sincerest apologies.”

America lifted her chin. “I can accept yours, if you accept mine.”

“Then, consider our slates clean.”

“I feel like I've missed something.” Kriss said, her eyes begging both of them for an explanation.

Liam waved off the concern. “Her Majesty and I have merely come to an agreement. Now, if you'll both pardon me, I must attend to other things.” He dropped a kiss on Kriss's cheek, and trudged back up the dais.

America towed a confused Kriss back to her room, shutting the door behind them and sliding to the floor. “What was that all about?” Kriss asked.

“Clarkson,” America mumbled, staring off into space.

“Clarkson? America, you clearly trusted Liam with something. If you can tell him, then surely you can trust me with it too.”

She nodded slowly as she came to a decision. “Kriss, I...I think Maxon had his dad killed.”

Kriss let out a horrified sob, America tugged her closer, and then they broke down and cried together in each other's arms.

“Amberly once told me that kings are under too much pressure, that being a royal meant making difficult choices.” America stopped to wipe her face on her sleeve. “Could it really have made Maxon...” she trailed off.

“You need to talk to him,” Kriss said. “Only he knows for sure. I'll wait in the hall.”

America fished out her phone and dialed Maxon's direct number, feeling conflicted as Maxon's exhausted face filled her screen. Of course, he wasn't sleeping without her.

“America, I wasn't expecting a call this soon. Is there an emergency?” Maxon asked.

“Sort of,” she said neutrally, but he knew that face on his wife, something had upset her.

“Is King Liam being a cad? Do I need to invade Cordonia for your honor?” His tone was light, hoping to lift her mood.

“No, no God! Don't kill him too!”

The 'too' drove a knife through his heart. She knew. “It was a joke, my love,” he promised with a thin smile. “What did he tell you?”

“Liam thinks you invited the Southern rebels to the palace.”

“I didn't invite them,” he grumbled. “I merely met with a few Southern rebels and pointed out that Father was against both of our interests. Had we been as in league as the Cordonian King wishes to believe us to be, so many lives wouldn't have been lost.”

“But you knew they were coming?”

“Yes,” he admitted, frowning.

“And you warned no one.”

“Everyone was on guard from the previous failures. The guards all expected they'd try again. What good would it have done?”

“Previous failures?” she screamed. “Do you even hear yourself? I was wrong; you’re no better than your dad was.”

“You more than anyone know that isn't true. My father was unreasonable and dangerous. I didn't have any better choices. I never meant for so many people to be hurt.”

Maxon’s face blurred as fresh tears filled America’s vision. “Ann's death, Aspen's injuries, your own mom was...they're all your fault.”

“Yes. In a sense, I'm partially responsible, but I...”

America couldn't hear him, her mind still churning. “My dad. Did you let them kill him too?”

“My god, America. No, never. I only got involved after the attacks on your families. That was when I knew it was never going to stop and I had to make arrangements or risk losing every Illéan one by one.” Maxon’s head hung and he dug his fingers into his temples. “Mostly, though I was trying to save you. I saw what living with him had done to my mom, and to me. I needed to guarantee your safety. _You have_ to understand.”

“I don't think I can.” She shook her head, a fresh wave of tears beginning to fall. “We’ll talk later.”

“I love you,” Maxon pleaded as the line went dead.

* * *

“America is calling Maxon, to confirm what you’ve said,” Kriss informed Liam. “I really wish you'd told me about him.”

“I considered it. I don't enjoy keeping things from you.”

“Then why did you?”

He shot her a sharp glance. “Exactly what should I have said? I am sorry to be the one to point this out, but the love of your life had a few dozen people killed. You might not want to idolize him.”

“I don't know. Anything would have been a start.” The brief flicker of cool anger in her face and tone faded to something less certain. “I’ll be of no use to you or Cordonia, if you plan on keeping things from me.”

“I won’t. In this case, I was being selfish.”

“You’re going to have to explain.”

“Your notions of first love are, or were, so important to you. At first, I didn't want to risk looking petty. As though I were trying to win you over merely by crushing your opinion of Maxon.”

“And later?”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of tarnishing memories that were that precious to you. For better or worse, protectiveness is an incurable fault of mine.”

“I love that about you.” She kissed him tenderly to underscore her point. “However, the world is full of leaders, of people, who did what they thought was best for others, while hiding the truth from them. How did that attitude work out for you, when it was your father substituting his judgment for yours?”

“Point taken. I will prioritize honesty in the future.”

“That’s all I ask. Maybe I should make you write it into your vows, and while I’m at it, extract payment for my wise advice.” Her smile was teasing and she’d leaned in, when they were interrupted by Liam’s phone ringing. “Or you can get that.”

Liam sighed. “The elephant in the room is calling. I am sure that means America will need you.”

Kriss nodded. “We can pick this up later.”

“I’m counting on that,” Liam said, as he raised the phone to his ear. “Hello.”

“Exactly what do you think you're doing?” Maxon asked, foregoing pleasantries.

“You'll need to be a tad more specific,” Liam replied tiredly.

“Somehow, you have my wife convinced I'm a brazen mass murderer.”

“Queen America demanded to know why I had behaved so inhospitably. How was I to know you'd kept her in the dark about your plans?”

A long silence followed before Maxon spoke, his anger deflated. “Help me fix it. Please. If not for me or for your future wife's best friend, then for Illéa. We...I can't lose her.”

“I fail to see what good my word will do in this situation, but I'm willing to try. I really hadn't meant to cause the two of you any harm,” Liam assured.

* * *

After dinner, Liam sought America out to make good on that promise. “Queen America, if I could have a word please before you retire for the night?”

“Of course.”

“Your husband is an extraordinary man. Whatever his faults may be, you were correct in assuring me he is nothing like Clarkson. While I have no right to suggest you can forgive him, please know that I have. I look forward, I hope, to considering you both my friends.”

“What changed your mind?” she asked.

“Maxon did.” he answered with a soft smile. “A man like my father would've appealed to my sense of honor, arguing how my actions could disgrace the country. A man like Clarkson would have threatened me, bullied me into making this apology.”

“What did Maxon do?”

“He appealed to my sense of love. And that makes him much more like me than I realized.” He bowed to her. “That's all I had to say. I hope you have a better night.”

“Good night.” America returned and stumbled into the hall in a daze where she found Kriss waiting for her.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kriss asked.

America shook her head, still trying to clear her tangled thoughts. “Would you be, if Maxon had chosen you?”

“I think so. If I believed he'd done what was best for Illéa, for our future together.”

“Is that really enough?”

“No. But logic _and_ love? I'm pretty sure that can survive anything.”

America chewed on her bottom lip in thought. “I guess I have a call to make.”

Kriss hugged America. “You’ve got this.”

America took a deep breath and dialed. “Maxon, I'm sorry.”

“I am too. More than you can imagine,” he said.

“I just wish you'd told me.”

“I couldn't risk...”

She stopped him. “Not that day, after. You shouldn't have had to carry it alone.”

Maxon shrugged. “I’ve never had anyone to confide in, America.”

“Now you do. I’m your Queen, Maxon, that means you can tell me anything.”

Maxon laughed. It was brittle but genuine. “More proof that I need you.”

“Don't you ever forget it,” insisted America with a smile of her own. Somehow, they'd be okay, she knew that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief references to The Selection's canonical capital punishment and dubcon.


	8. Promises

As everyone gathered in Rome, Maxwell strolled up out of nowhere, holding a glass of champagne. “Boo.”

“Maxwell, where have you been?” Liam asked rather reasonably.

“I was off doing House Beaumont things and promoting the book,” he declared, to a round of skeptical looks from his friends.

“Okay,” Maxwell slumped under their silent scrutiny. “Mostly I was sleeping with Aryan where Bertrand couldn't find me. No one tell my brother.”

“Who the hell is Aryan?” Drake asked.

On cue, an attractive man about Maxwell's age appeared and kissed Maxwell passionately in greeting. Maxwell spun him to face the group as they parted. “Guys, Aryan. Ary, these are my best friends and some of their friends, and uh, the Princess of Italy?” He introduced everyone in turn.

Nicoletta nodded. “Ragione, Lord Beaumont.”

Ary waved, unfazed by the collection of royals and nobles. “It's so great to meet you all!”

Hana, ever the diplomat, took charge of the conversation. “So how did you two meet?”

“Maxie saved my little sister,” Ary explained.

“I'm pretty sure the guards did that,” Celeste said.

At the same time Olivia repeated, “Maxie?” and burst into laughter.

Maxwell's cheeks glowed brightly. “Ary was grateful.”

“Grateful and pretty,” corrected Ary, elbowing Maxwell in the ribs.

“You know it, babe.” Maxwell finger gunned at him.

“As fun as catching up has been, I need to go meet King Francesco and my in-laws. Ladies, do enjoy your festivities. Drake.” Liam looked toward his best friend.

Drake heaved a put-on sigh. “I know, I know, keep Maxwell out of trouble.”

“Precisely.” Liam kissed Kriss briefly. “Remember, my Queen, this is your day. Do anything and everything you want.”

Kriss flashed him a bright smile. “Will do.”

“And Lady Hana?”

“Yes. Your Majesty?” Hana shot him a faux salute.

“I'm putting you in charge of ensuring that whatever Kriss wants includes being sober enough to make it to brunch in the morning.”

Kriss buried her face in her hands. “That was one time. Who even told you about that?”

“I have my sources.” Liam said teasingly before he turned and headed in the direction of the Italian Royal Palace.

Drake corralled Maxwell and Ary in a different direction. “How about a club, you two? You can dance off some of this energy, and I can get a whiskey.”

“Drake volunteering to party with me and my boy? Best. Day. Ever.” Maxwell whooped. Ary quickly snapped a selfie of the three of them.

“Yeah, yeah, it was this or a stuffy dinner, don't get used to it,” grumbled Drake.

Elise turned to Kriss. “That just leaves us. Where to?”

“Anyone else hungry? I want gelato!”

Celeste climbed up to stand on the edge of a nearby fountain. “The bride has spoken. Onward to fancy ice cream!”

They stormed a gelateria where Hana dared Kriss to demand their purchase as a tithe demanded by the kings of Cordonia and Italy. She got nearly all the way through the sentence before dissolving into giggles.

Nicoletta made her way to the counter. “Don't mind her. We're a bridal party, mad with power," she apologized.”

“My shop overrun by pretty ladies. I’m sure I'll survive, Your Highness.” He winked at her.

* * *

Once they’d made a dent in the geleteria’s inventory, someone suggested the beach would go well with ice cream, which in turn meant a stop at a boutique, to trade their club dresses for swimwear. What followed was a chaotic flurry of pulling down nearly everything on the racks, and trying it on, only to trade with each other and race back to the changing rooms to try again.

Kriss laughed as she emerged in an orange two-piece. “You know what this reminds me of?” she asked America.

“A traffic cone?”

“Not the swimsuit, though, you're right.” Kriss frowned down at it before shaking her head. “I meant today reminded me of that day we had our photo shoot.”

“That was a great day,” Celeste chimed in, “All that's missing is—"

“A camera?” Elise suggested, holding one up above her head. “Ahead of you. As usual.”

“I don't know whether to be offended, or love how prepared you are, but for that, first picture is of me and Olivia.”

Celeste dragged her protesting girlfriend over. “This is hardly the right attire for photo ops,” Olivia tried to complain, right up until Celeste kissed her, effectively cutting off the flow of words. Elise snapped the photo.

“Who's next?” Hana asked.

Kriss motioned for the camera. “How about one of you and Elise?”

“Oh, thank you! That would be nice.” Elise and Hana hugged, making faces at the camera.

“Perfect,” Kriss laughed, as she clicked the shot.

This went on through dozens of wardrobe changes and taking photos of nearly every possible permutation of the group, interrupted only to trade stories and reminisce. The light was waning by the time they leave the shop, and it's almost cold enough to rethink their plans, when Kriss's phone buzzed.

“It's Liam!” she called to the group. “He wants to know what we're up to.”

“Tell him we robbed a bank,” Hana called out.

“Tell him it's a secret,” Celeste advised.

She tapped out: _Headed to the beach. Come with?_

Liam's reply was instantaneous: _Be there in 15. Don't freeze until I can get there to keep you warm._

The rest of the boys meet them there too. Kriss thanked Drake, as she and Liam plunked down next to the bonfire Drake had built.

“I could've built it, too,” Olivia complained.

“Yeah, but you wouldn't have wanted to, while I'm used to doing all the work while others stand around and watch,” Drake said, smirking.

“A round of applause for my long-suffering best friend,” Liam proposed with equal sarcasm.

“At least we're not scrubbing House Beaumont's floors with a toothbrush,” Wendy said, coming up to throw her arms around Drake's neck.

“I'm not just thankful for the heat." Kriss redirected the conversation. "Thank you for being stubborn enough to make me come to Cordonia, Drake.” She tipped her head back to grin up at Liam. “I owe you one.”

An unabashed smile lit Drake face as he said, “That's twenty push-ups, Liam.”

“I've never been happier to lose a bet.”

* * *

Olivia had survived multiple assassination attempts with poise but hosting dinner for the Newsomes was rapidly testing her patience. She could handle their criticisms about the food and decor, she'd gotten worse from Drake, but the dismissal of her position as a duchess was grating.

“What is it, exactly, that you do here?” Mr. Newsome asked with a dismissive sniff.

“I govern. Being a duchess is close to the function of the mayor of your province. I'm also an adviser to King Liam, which if I understand your caste system correctly, should make me your equal.”

Mrs. Newsome toyed with her shrimp fork. “It's not a status issue we’re struggling with, Eliana was it?”

Celeste thunked her forehead against the table. “It’s Olivia, Mother, I must have said her name a hundred times.”

Mr. Newsome continued as though she hadn't spoken, “Celeste, darling, we'd just feel better if you had a man around the duchy.”

Olivia, leaned over to Celeste to say at a whisper, “I could kill him six, no seven, ways without even leaving the table, if he keeps that up.”

Celeste, just as quietly replied, “You're not killing daddy. Besides I’ve got this.” She snapped her fingers and Serik slunk into the dining room and sat next to the table.

Her mother stared in horror as Celeste casually tossed the young leopard the scraps from her mother's serving of lamb. Serik happily gnashed away at the treat.

“What is that?” Mr. Newsome managed to ask, pointing a shaking finger at Serik.

Celeste flashed her parents a pleased grin. “He's our boy around the chateau.”

“Perhaps it's time we start on our tour,” Olivia suggested, and the Newsomes followed her out. Celeste lagged a few steps behind as she doubled back to give Serik a scritch on his chin. Unfortunately for Olivia, Celeste’s parents’ shock faded quickly and soon they were back to criticizing everything about the estate, comparing the staff, the grounds, and the chateau to Illéan people and places Olivia had never heard of.

Olivia deflected and redirected some of their worst comments with more charm than she usually afforded anyone; she was determined not to give them a reason to dislike her.

Which made it all the more painful when Mrs. Newsome asked, “Celeste, really, when are you going to stop with this dalliance and come home?” All without even pretending to be quiet, the way a rival noble would have done.

“Really Mother—”

“Your career isn't going to wait forever. I'm sure the Duchess needs to get serious about her future as well,” Mr. Newsome added.

Olivia bit her cheek until her mouth welled with blood, but she could wait no longer. “Celeste is my future,” she declared through red-tinged teeth.

It wasn't the sort of thing she'd planned on saying. It wasn't the sort of thing they said, not even to each other. It was ridiculous and sentimental and...

True.

Celeste edged over, wrapping an arm around Olivia's waist, tugging her in close like a shield. “Clermont isn't home anymore. I'm staying in Lythikos.”

“For what? So this barbarian of a noble has something attractive to look at?” Mrs. Newsome huffed. “Be reasonable, Celeste.”

Olivia spat a mouthful of blood in the direction of the woman's shoes. As the saying went: if the stiletto fits, wear it. If Celeste's parents were determined to know only her reputation, then she would use it.

The older Newsomes backed away in horror, but Olivia stalked toward them, head held high. “As difficult as this is for you to believe, Celeste has more to offer the world than her ability to smile at a camera. Whatever path she chooses to pursue here in Lythikos, I will support her.”

Celeste glanced back at her. “Even if my answer is Duchess?”

“Especially then.”

Mrs. Newsome collapsed in her husband's arms, breaking into dramatic wailing.

Celeste motioned a member of staff forward. “Yes, my lady,” he asked

“Show them out before they disturb Her Grace, please.”

“As you wish.”

He gently herded Celeste's parents away. Celeste turned to Olivia. “What happens now?”

“First, we celebrate. Next, we'll formulate an announcement for the press. Then a long boutique appointment, with the armorer.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow.

“Any future Duchess of Lythikos needs a set of knives for her dress. I won't stand for you attending Liam's wedding unarmed.”

* * *

It was the happiest and most important day of Liam's life. Although he knew very shortly he'd only have eyes for the bride, for the moment he was free to take in the crowd that had come to help him celebrate it. Some part of him couldn't help catalogue the diplomatic achievements, the nobles houses throughout Cordonia and Europe who've sent representatives, but King Francesco and Princess Nicoletta mark the turning point to more personal ties. Bertrand and Savannah; Bastien and Bianca; Hana and Elise; Maxwell and Ary; Olivia and Celeste; Maxon, awaiting his wife as soon as she's free of maid of honor duties. Wendy next to him holding a place for Drake once he was similarly free. His home, his life was full of peace and love he could finally share in.

Part of him was waiting for the shadow of tragedy that had followed him for so long. But no explosions rocked the cathedral, no guards rushed in with a report of an attack, no one fell ill.

Instead, the orchestra struck up the first few notes of the song to announce the bride and everyone turned to face Kriss and her parents as they came down the aisle. His bride was resplendent beyond anything he'd ever known, radiating joy.

Kriss marched past legions of people she knew vaguely, if at all, some only names in a briefing file. Then, past a few rows of Selected girls and their new husbands. As she stepped up next to America, she smiled and Kriss remembered to breathe, only to have the air rush of her lungs again at the sight of Liam in his gold-trimmed white suit.

“Hi,” Kriss said, her mind suddenly blank as her father handed her off. It was easier to say nothing anyway, it meant she wouldn't have to stop smiling.

“Hello there,” he said with a dazzling smile of his own. "It's unfair how absolutely stunning you are right now,” he said quietly.

“Unfair? Have you seen yourself?” she whispered back.

“Guess that means we just need to steal a moment alone as soon as possible.”

Leo stepped up to the altar. “Not that I don't approve, little brother, but let's try getting through the ceremony first.” He winked at them, then addressed the crowd in a commanding tone. “Ahem, if I may have everyone's attention. I am honored to return home to preside over this very joyous, and very long-awaited,” Leo paused for a smattering of laughter, “occasion of my brother's wedding. Marriage around the world has many customs, traditions, but at its heart all marriages are a bond between two people and the love they share. Here in Cordonia we think of marriage as a promise. A promise to renew your love and commitment to one another every day you are together.”

Together, Kriss and Liam cast one final look at the sea of faces before them, of friends new and old. They represented promises made and promises yet to be, and prepared to make their own.


	9. Canon Primer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was too long to fit in a Notes box but I thought it would be helpful for anyone who was only familar with one of these canons to have info about the other, and about the way I made the crossover fit together.

Locations

Cordonia is a small wealthy European nation near Greece. It canonically exists in a parallel present-day, with politics comparable to twenty-first century capitalist nations, but with a ridiculous number of balls and holidays.

Illéa is a far-future oppressive mega nation, built on the ruins of a post-nuclear war torn North America. Illéan politics are incredibly classist with a rigid caste system that numbers citizens from One to Eight. An Illéan citizen's caste position determines everything that citizen is able to do and access. Illéa is also very sexist with a disregard for women.

Because these canons are temporally incompatible, I moved Cordonia to The Selection’s universe. As a result, the main character of The Royal Romance is from Waverly (Illéa’s equivalent of New York) and Hana identifies as from New Asia.

Canon Summaries

Prince Liam of Cordonia met and fell in love with a server who agreed to participate in his social season, a months-long social event and competition designed to help him meet eligible women and choose his wife to help rule Cordonia. The Royal Romance is the story of that social season and the year that follows.

Across the Atlantic, Prince Maxon of Illéa invited thirty-six women—one from each Illéan province—to compete in The Selection, a similar televised competition designed to help him choose a bride and teach the competing ladies the rigors of leading a nation and being royalty. The Selection Series is Maxon and America’s love story.

This fic picks up a year after the events of the third book of The Royal Romance and ignores everything in The Royal Heir (mostly because it wasn’t out yet when I’d written most of this story). In The Selection Series it goes canon divergent at the end of The One (mostly because I wanted to save Celeste).

Characters (in order of appearance)

_Characters from The Royal Romance Series_

Liam: The King of Cordonia.  
Olivia Nevrakis: The Duchess of Lythikos.  
Drake Walker: Liam’s best friend; and the Duke of Valtoria following his marriage to Wendy Reismyth.  
Wendy Reismyth: The Duchess of Valtoria following her participation in Liam’s social season.  
Maxwell Beaumont: The second son of the Duke of Ramsford.  
Hana Lee: A competitor in Liam’s social season.  
Bastien: Leader of the Cordonian Royal Guard.  
Madeleine: The countess of Fydelia; formerly engaged to both Liam and his brother; Royal Press Secretary.  
Godfrey: The Duke of Karlington; Madeleine’s father.  
Landon & Emmeline: The Duke and Duchess of Portavira.  
Maisie: Lythikos’s animal trainer.  
Leo: The former Crown Prince of Cordonia; Liam's half brother.  


_Characters from The Selection Series_

Maxon Schreave: The Prince of Illéa.  
America Singer: Selection competitor who marries Maxon.  
Aspen Leger: A member of the royal guard; America’s ex-boyfriend.  
Kriss Ambers: Selection competitor who comes in second; aspiring teacher; Northern Rebel.  
Clarkson & Amberly Schreave: The King and Queen of Illéa.  
August Illéa: Leader of the Northern Rebel forces.  
Celeste Newsome: Selection competitor who comes in third; former model.  
Avery: A member of the royal guard.  
Dr. Ashlar: the head royal physician.  
Elise Whisks: Selection competitor who comes in fourth; hotelier.  
Mr. & Mrs. Ambers: Kriss's parents; university professors.  
Lucy: former maid; Aspen’s fiancée.  
Nicoletta: Princess of Italy.  
Aryan: brother of an unnamed Selection competitor.  
Mr. & Mrs. Newsome: Celeste's parents; celebrities.

Apologies and Acknowledgements

My apologies to anyone who shipped the reader character of The Royal Romance to any of the love interests other than Drake, those fond of Kriss’s and Elise’s canonical husbands, and for what I did to Maxon.

My thanks to Leah for suggesting I read the The Selection Series, to Skitty for cheerleading this crazy adventure, and to Phnelt for being willing to read and beta this story despite never having consumed these canons before. Last but definitely not least, thank you for reading. I love all of you.


End file.
